Raw
by XquisiteProdigy
Summary: Entangled in a world of sex and corruption, Isabella De Luca is straddling a fine line between family and love. With the government on her trail, and her father's embezzlement past lingering over her, can she have it all? Or will she be left raw?
1. Prologue

**Updates weekly, a big thank you to any and all readers for trying out my fuckery. **

**Full of angst, drama, sexual gratification in the kinkiest form, and violence. **

**Thank you to my betas: Cookie, Mia, and Steph. **

**But enough of my nonsense. Let's get Raw...**

* * *

><p><strong>The Prologue<strong>

Phil Dwyer could smell her pussy dripping even from across the cold, steel table.

He swallowed hard, pulling on his tie to breathe just an infinitesimal amount of air. The average woman he visited here, their tresses hung over their eyes, a protection of curtain to conceal their guilt.

But not her.

Instead she laughed, a sound that sent chills down his spine. He ought not have been paying attention to the way she flirted blatantly, her long eyelashes the only shade to view her promiscuous gaze she had on him.

Phil grumbled under his breath, silently willing his erection to disappear. It didn't.

_And she knew it._

He squirmed in his seat, fully aware of the sexuality that poured off of her like honey. The way her legs spread openly, even though her hands were bound by the rounded cuffs around her wrists.

_She can't hurt you_, he thought to himself. _Only torture you._

"You know why I'm here," he eventually coughed out.

"Why yes," she answered sweetly, her brown eyes the opposite of innocence. "It's always good to see you again, _Phil_."

His whole body shook, raptured by the transcendence of her ecstasy giving aura when she mentioned him by name. He faintly made an effort to try to remember why he was here.

"Miss, I am in the unfortunate position to give you bad news."

Her gaze flickered, and Phil swore he saw a second of fear, but it was gone before he could truly acknowledge it.

"Well, spit it out. I haven't got all day," she spat cruelly.

"See, that's the thing," Phil said slowly. "I'm afraid you do. The DA is trying to put you away for a life sentence, without the possibility of parole."

The orange jumpsuit with her personal inmate number meant nothing to her.

The policemen who were supposed to make sure she remained in her chair were not fast enough.

The handcuffs restraining her were simply, not enough.

She was on his lap, legs straddled around his waist before he could react. Her small hands grasped his neck tightly until his face turned slightly purple from the lack of air.

"You tell them that just won't do, Phil. I'm getting out of this shithole, with or without your help. So you tell them, _Phil_, Mr. Highly-Paid-Lawyer, that I am _not _staying here. If I've got to fuck my way out of here, then so be it. I will not die here, understand? I will not die here!"

The guards had finally jumped into action, but it was too late. Phil was frightened out of his mind. They pulled her away as a sneer crossed her face, and she winked at him as the buzzer opened the locked metal doors.

"They aren't fucking me over!" she yelled, just as her body was dragged through to be returned to her cell.

"_I've already fucked them."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

This was not meant to be pure.

It was adulterated, excruciating pleasure.

For the moment, it was his- not hers.

The grip on the flesh of her hips was a constant reminder of the hold he had on her.

He intertwined his rough hands through her hair, yanking her back. Bringing her out of her dreams. Out of a wonderland of bunnies and clouds and everything good in the world.

They were not there, in a place where morals existed. Instead, she was on her hands and knees, ready to be fucked until the awareness of her humanity was a mere blur. But she had made him livid. The sweat from his brow decanted onto her back, leaving a trail down her spine.

Drip. "_You've given me no choice, Isabella_."

Drip. "_This is your doing. Not mine_."

Drip. "_Take my cock you filthy, little girl_."

He slammed into her, and with the motion, she cried out; unprepared for the invasion into her body. Twisting her fingers onto the bedsheets, she fought severely, but he wouldn't even allow her that. Her muscles clenched as he effortlessly took her hands into his own. Behind her back. She had nothing to hold on to.

Not even herself.

Breathing heavily, her chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his thrusts. There would be no mercy tonight, no leniency on her soul. She whimpered as he plunged his overtly sized sex into her. Her senses were completely overwhelmed by the smell of perspiration and sweat.

"_Stop crying_," he ordered bitterly and paused his movements. The tone of his voice was not that of honey and lemon, but of callous abrasiveness. She felt her long, chestnut coloured hair tumble around her shoulders as he released it to turn her face around. Despite her rapid heartbeat, she was enthralled by the sight of his dark emerald eyes.

But it was his muscular physique that held her in her place. It was his bronzed, tousled hair that kept her grounded. His jaw, sprinkled with a shadow of unshaven hair, only emphasized his lips and the luscious tongue that barked at her.

"_Are you done now? Staring at me with that pitiful look upon your face. You ought to be ashamed_," he berated, before driving into her again. She remained on her knees as her face was held immobile by his hands. He silently dared her to make a sound, provoking her with his glare to utter a word.

She couldn't think of a single, comprehensive thought as he continued to drive deeper; the moisture between her legs was used as lubricant against the friction of their rubbing skin. Their eyes stay locked as he slid his cock relentlessly into her throbbing pussy.

"_Is this what you wanted?"_ he hissed through clenched teeth. Her breasts bounced as his long fingers continued to hold her hands back.

But her body? It was his.

A shiver ran through her while he breathed in the air she exhaled.

"_You're not answering me, Isabella_," he growled. His vengeance was her payment for silence.

He pushed her onto the bed, the cold air hitting her wet folds causing her to gasp. Effortlessly, her legs are lifted onto his shoulders, with no intimate touching in between transitions. Remaining settled between her apex, she reveled at the length and thickness of his erection. She needed a moment to regain her bearings, but he was not a patient man.

Cradling his cock in her pussy, he rubbed it up and down. Once. Twice. Three times before she nearly lost her damn mind. His lust overdrove his desire to torture her, and on the last graze of him touching her swollen bud, he surged himself with one powerful stroke.

He muttered out a quiet '_Fuck_' as they both gasped at the erotic sensations of being joined together once more. To her astonishment, he rocked them both slowly, pulling all the way out, before diving back in. His jaw tightened as he gazed down at her body, taking in every curve and peak.

Her moans and spasms were only a mere validation that her orgasm was on the horizon. She reached down to rub her clitoris in a circle, only to have her hand slapped away.

His pupils darkened, furious that she would try to pleasure herself. That she would even consider it.

"_Am I not enough, Isabella? Do you want me to fuck you harder?_"

Not waiting for an answer, he pounded into her at earth shattering speeds. The voice that screamed out was not her own; it belonged to that of a woman who had lost her sense of dignity. She came without warning; the tightening in her midsection was immediately followed by his own release. The bed absorbed her weight as the woman collapsed, taking a second to breathe.

He started to sit next to her, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand, pulling the money out of her jeans. He knew how this game worked. She imitated the version of a helpless young girl during sex, but afterwards, she was back her demanding nature. She didn't need for him to 'hang out' with her. She preferred to be fucked into an oblivious stupor without the intention to develop any relationship-type feelings.

"Here's your five thousand dollars, Edward," she spat harshly, passing his cash over.

"See you tomorrow," she instructed, sauntering away to take a shower. Her naked rear was facing his dazed expression as she paused at the bathroom doorway. "And don't forget, it will be Saturday, so you need to get retested again."

"_You know I like my whores raw_."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Isabella De Luca sat at her desk, chewing on the end of her ballpoint pen as the phones continued to ring endlessly.

"Rosalie!" she yelled, tapping her foot impatiently against the mahogany desk until her blonde secretary stumbled in. Rosalie Hale was the best of the best in her company; Isabella wouldn't have her handling her business propositions if she wasn't. She wasn't fouled-mouth like the last secretary Isabella had hired, she knew her place and her degree from NYU proved her intelligence.

Rosalie adjusted her dark framed glasses, shutting the door, and caught the stack of papers just before they threatened to fall haphazardly to the ground. Isabella crossed her legs the opposite way and stared her up and down, admiring her lean frame, and curvaceous breasts.

"Rosy-baby, I'm having a bad day," she simulated in her best girlish tone. Rosalie understood and put her documents in a neat stack on the desk. Her nameplate, framed in gold, nearly toppled over from her placement.

"What's wrong, Miss Isabella?" she asked.

"Well, the tax agent called earlier. I need to make sure all files are in order in case he swings by for a visit. If he finds out I'm passing out prostitutes like candy, we will all go up in flames. Is everything in order?"

Rosalie leaned across, her blonde tresses spilling like waves across her collarbone. "It's all taken care of. Twilight Phone Sex Services is a conglomerate of today's hottest single men and women who are professionals in delivering all of the seduction a person could want, done through the comfort of their home. We are reputable sponsors who highlight fantasy acts, in a world where illusions are no longer dreamed. Any type of sexual session is completely and one hundred percent legal, for our customers know that the real pleasure comes from a sensual voice, not from physical intimacy."

Isabella applauded Rosalie's memorized speech and beckoned her over. "You did so good, Rosy-baby. You want a reward? For making me proud?"

Rosalie nodded enthusiastically and Isabella took her hand into her own, positioning her body so that she was on her knees. She kneeled before her, removing her glasses. Isabella's smooth hands lifted her dress up, the silky fabric of the designer garment brushing against her thighs. With no barrier to maneuver, Rosalie dove right in, licking her boss's core softly, and moaning at the taste of her pussy.

"Mmmm, you know just I like it, don't you, sweet girl?" Isabella cooed, pulling her long hair back. She caressed Rosalie's aroused nipples as she flicked her tongue back and forth against her dripping, hot area. Her hips swiveled forward, fucking her mouth as she sped up her strokes.

A hard knock pounded against the door, alerting them of a visitor.

"Who is it?" Isabella called out.

"It's Emmett," he answered, and Isabella pressed Rosalie's mouth against her, wanting her to continue her pressure.

"Come in," Isabella sighed, brushing Rosalie's hair to the side, so she could watch her lips work between her folds.

Emmett McCarty, one of her longtime, but loyal whores entered into her office that was located on the thirty-eighth floor in a high-rise in central Washington, D.C. Isabella pretended to be interested in what he had to say, as she concentrated on Rosalie servicing her.

He rolled his eyes as he watched the sweet girl continue to lick her steadily. He was use to their office exploits. Isabella glared up at him, annoyed at his presence. The shifting of his cock didn't go unnoticed.

"BB? Can I ask you a question?" he inquired slowly, his dimples and dark hair emphasized his large, boyish features. Isabella frowned at his old nickname for her, Bossy Bella, or BB for short. He was the only one she would let get away with such monikers. She wasn't ashamed to say that they had fucked once or twice, but he was her best friend, more or less. She didn't think that after many years of their friendship, their sexual escapades were all that great. Obviously, his clientele in the District of Columbia disagreed. He knew damn well his conquests alone had put her in the larger tax bracket last year.

"Yes, Em, what is it?" Isabella gasped momentarily as Rosalie swirled her tongue around her clit, nipping it slightly between her teeth. "Oh God, Rosy, I'm going to come. Keep going, baby…"

She moved her head in a quickened rhythm as Emmett struggled to spit out his sentence. "I talked to Edward and you paid him five thousand dollars per session this weekend. You didn't pay me that!"

Ignoring his whining for the time being, Rosalie slipped a slender finger into Isabella and curled it. She rocked forward and came into her mouth, allowing her to lick all of her juices before she stood up.

Holding up a finger to Emmett, Isabella kissed Rosalie quickly on the cheek before she slipped out of her office, gliding her frames back onto her face.

Isabella straightened her dress and pulled the hem down, pivoting in her leather chair. "Number one, the next time you interrupt my orgasm with a stupid-ass question like that, you and I are going to have a problem. Number two, what Edward and I do is none of your business. I'm the boss. You don't like it, then you know where the door is."

Emmett laughed boisterously, and ignored her feeble threats. She was a bit of a softy. He knew her bark was worse than her bite.

"Seriously…BB. C'mon. I _know _my cock is bigger than his. There's no way he deserved five thousand bucks. And when did you start fucking your own whores?"

Isabella shrugged her shoulders and concentrated on the expensive gems that decorated her heels. _Damn, they look good on me, _she thought with a grin_. _Emmett clicked his tongue and waited for her answer.

"Edward Cyllen has only been with us a few weeks. I wanted to make sure the service was good. I paid him significantly to help him out. You know I'm a generous person."

The big guy rolled his eyes again, obviously not buying her answer. "Yeah, I bet. I'm on to you BB. I. Am. On. To. You."

Isabella laughed as he motioned with his fingers from his eyes to her, and back to his eyes with every word. "Oh, before you leave, you think you could order lunch for me?"

He sighed, and pulled out his cell, making a smart-aleck remark. "Okay, whatcha want? Besides more Rosalie…"

This time it was her who gave him a curious look. "Emmett McCarty, I've known you since we were fifteen years old. Don't tell me you're jealous. If you want her, you can have her. You're my best friend. I won't stand in your way."

"I just…never mind," he said, shaking his head. "You want Thai? I'm in the mood for Thai. Yep, Thai sounds good."

Isabella just nodded and decided to play therapist with him later. But first, she had affairs to tend to.

"Em, if you see Edward today, tell him to see him. A.S.A.P."

The expression on her face alerted Emmett that she was no longer in a joking mood.

Isabella had to speak with him privately.

She didn't have many rules in her office, but one stood out among the rest.

_You never fuck and tell._

_And you especially don't bite the hand that feeds you._

Edward Cyllen had done all three, in the matter of just a few days.

Isabella chuckled menacingly to herself. He would be paying back every dime of the five thousand dollars since he wanted to have such a big mouth.

_Yes, he would be paying her back, indeed._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Edward had done an excellent job of avoiding Isabella all week. She supposed Emmett had told him she wanted to speak with him, so an entire week had gone by before Isabella saw his ass again. They had meetings every Friday to go over business, so he was obliged to attend. It took all of her effort to not curse him out when he waltzed through the door just before nine a.m.

Isabella glanced at her employees sat in the large conference room, taking up each seat at the long rectangular table. They were a small corporation, made up of about twenty people. She did indeed run a phone sex service, to keep things legit, but that was not where her primary income originated from. Out of those twenty employees, seven of them were prostitutes. She used that term loosely, for her business was high class. Before establishing Twilight, Isabella had considered dubbing it an escort service, but as they all knew, those businesses were being busted left and right for their illegal activity. It hit too close to home. Therefore, Twilight was born seven years ago, right after Isabella graduated with honors from Yale. She was a clever gal, so she knew her shit and how to manage a corporation. It just took time and hard work to get things running off the ground.

Besides Emmett and their recent addition, Edward, Isabella had several other whores that she managed. They were compromised of two other males, Paul and Jacob Black; along with the females, Bree Meyers, Emily Call, and Angela Weber. Each of them had their own sexual talents of course, but they were all extremely beautiful and dressed to the nines.

Paul and Jacob were brothers, lean and thin, but had an exotic appearance of dark skin and wild eyes. The women of D.C. absolutely adored them. They looked innocent, but their activities between the sheets were not to be reckoned with. Bree was their youngest, with baby-like features, and dark hair. She was often requested because she would do _anything_, and by that, it meant literally. The girl had no boundaries- and Isabella liked that about her. Emily was the oldest, so when clients desired a cougar, she was the one called. She was a tall blonde, with bright blue eyes, and was very well manned and classy. Last, but not least, was Angela. She was quiet, but when she had something to say, one knew it was important. She was the most hesitant to join, but when she realized she could make thousands of dollars in a single week, she stayed.

Money would make even the most tamed person turn into an animal.

Whatever money her darlings made during their sessions, thirty percent went to Isabella. It was a steep commission, but they knew the amount they brought home was worth it. They wouldn't be missing any of it. It was mandated that they were tested every week, even though they all used protection. She couldn't have her whores getting ridden with some STD or other disease, so Isabella made sure they remained safe. They also had two body guards, Jasper Cameron and Eric Yorkie, who accompanied the females at any given time. You never knew what type of people they would come across. They primarily dealt with politicians, CEO's, lawyers, socialites, and citizens of that nature, but still…there would be the occasional slimeball or two lurking somewhere.

Isabella cleared her throat and thanked Rosalie for the glass of water she sat on the coaster in front of her. Everyone stopped their chatting as she called the meeting to order.

"Good morning, everyone," she announced cheerfully.

"Good morning, Miss Isabella," they replied in unison.

_See? _She thought_. My obedient little whores. I have trained them well._

Edward sat two seats down from her, evading any and all eye contact. _Good._ He ought to be petrified for his damn life at this point.

Isabella shuffled her papers together. "First up, we need to discuss dress code. Some of you have been slacking in that department. You are _not _to show up here in jeans, do I make myself clear? Paul?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I am not running a circus here. You want to wear denim, then you stay your ass at home. Men you are to wear dress slacks, collared shirts, and a tie at all times. Suit jackets are also acceptable. I don't need the thirty-seven other floors in this building wondering what the hell we are doing up here. Women, no hems above the knees. No flats, and hair must be down for all occasions. Good hygiene practices are a given. Does everyone understand this?"

They all murmured in agreement.

"Very well. I shouldn't have to bring this up again. Next order of business, we need to discuss transportation with Mr. Clearwater. Harry has complained that you all are making him stop at other locations other than the Four Seasons Hotel where you conduct your sessions. I pay top dollar to book the top rooms for an entire year. That is where you are to be dropped off, that is where you are to be picked up. Anywhere else is unacceptable. And if I hear you giving Harry shit about it, I'll cut your ass in a second, no questions asked. Capisce?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, we are all done here. Unless anyone has any questions." Isabella paused momentarily, and when no one said anything, she dismissed them. "Okay, you all may pick up your checks at Rosalie's desk. Edward, I need you to stay behind for a minute."

None of her clients paid in cash- she wasn't foolish. Otherwise, her whores would be too tempted to slip an extra hundred in their pocket. Therefore, all patrons had to pay by credit card or check to the main office. They made sure the paper trail was clean, and her employees were paid every week, on Fridays.

Paul and Jacob snickered, making immature comments underneath their breath. "Oooh, Edward's in troubleeee!"

Isabella rolled her eyes, and shut the door behind Emily, as she was the last one to leave. She sauntered over to him, since he had not budged from his seat. He looked absolutely delectable in his dark gray slacks and white shirt, complimented by a black tie. His tousled hair looked a complete mess as usual, but that was part of his allure. His jade-coloured eyes that bore into your soul also fell into that category; the hue so piercing it was a captivating.

Isabella propped herself up on the table, pulling down the hem on her royal blue wrap dress. Crossing her legs, she lifted his chin so that he was looking at her.

"Do you know why I need to speak with you, Edward?" she asked evenly.

He nodded.

_I can't hear nods, _she contemplated in her head.

"Edward, I know you are new here, but when I say words to you, I expect you to use your big boy voice and talk back. I _asked_, do you know why I need to speak with you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said quietly.

"And why is that?" she prodded him.

"Because I talked to Emmett."

"Edward, I like you. That's why I'm keeping you around. And it's not that I care if you speak to Emmett. We are a family around here. We keep no secrets. But the second currency is transacted from my hand to yours, it's a contractual agreement. If I wanted everyone else to know, then I would have passed out money to everyone at the meeting today. You're a cute kid, so I'm going to let this one slide. It happens again, and you are out. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Cyllen?"

"Yes, Miss Isabella."

"Good. Now take off your pants. You're going to pay me back for opening up that mouth of yours."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Isabella was glad he was a smart boy. He was just a few years younger than her junior, but he knew today he would not be playing the dominant role. At the moment, he would be apologizing for his mistake.

_With his cock._

"You know my rules. No kissing. But I'll play nice and let you choose the location. How do you want to say you're sorry, Edward? On the table? In a chair?"

He cleared his throat and spoke so softly, she barely heard him. "Against the window."

Isabella raised her eyebrow and smiled. "Excellent choice. Although, I think that's part of the problem, wouldn't you agree? I think you like letting the world know you fuck me, is that it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, taking off the last of his clothes. His erection was already at full mast. No matter how it appeared, this man was not subservient by any means. He could easily walk away at any moment, no questions asked. Like Emmett had previously mentioned, she didn't usually interact with her whores.

But there was something about this one that she liked. She just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, just yet.

"Take off my clothes, Edward," Isabella sighed, impatiently. "I'm not going to wrinkle an original Givenchy."

He nodded, and lifted her with ease off of the table, setting her on her feet. He slid the dress over top of her head, revealing her ornate lace detailed lingerie set. Isabella watched him swallow the hard lump that had formed in his throat.

"I don't hear the beginnings of an apology, Edward," she complained, prompting him along.

His eyes darkened, and this was the Edward she knew, the one who could make a woman go weak at the knees with just his stare alone.

He growled, ripping her panties off with one clean sweep. "I'm sorry, Isabella, for fucking you so hard, I just had to announce it."

Her bra was next, flicked off in mere seconds. "I'm sorry, Isabella, for telling Emmett just how damn hot you are."

He lifted her around his waist, and she wrapped her peep-toe heels around his hips for support. Isabella felt his cock rub against her pussy as he carried them to the window, the city life buzzing just stories below.

Her back touched the cold glass, and she felt sorry for the workers in the bank building that stood just across from them. They were in for quite the treat today.

Edward used one muscular arm to hold her up, the other to guide his erection to her inner core. Isabella was anticipating his next apology, while her body was already flushed to extreme temperatures. She didn't know how he was so different, how he made her feel a multitude of sensations all at once. But this was not the moment to acknowledge her unstable emotional turmoil. Right now, this man had to make up for the lack of self-control he had around others.

_By losing it on her._

Edward directed her hands, wanting her to hold on to the sides of the window pane. Isabella complied, and he whispered another "Sorry."

She goaded him, wanting his damn cock already. "For what, Edward?"

He smirked, and tilted his head.

"For this."

And damn, if Isabella didn't bite his shoulder as hard as she could when he plunged into her. He was supposed to be remorseful, and for what, she didn't even know or care anymore. He was grabbing her ass so tightly, she was positive he was leaving his mark on her. Thrusting continuously, their bodies crashed together again and again. The angle, in which we were standing, was too much. He was hitting her spot repeatedly, her hardened nipples bouncing up and down at their incessant movement.

Isabella couldn't help her fists that were grabbing the window pane, then pounding, then grabbing once more. Her pussy threatened to contract around Edward's length, but she didn't want to come, not yet. It took all of her ability to not inhale his manly scent of sandalwood and sex; it was stirring in circles around her aura, begging her to cower to its influence. Right now, she needed the control, the power, the dominion. She would not be the one paying penitence for his sins.

"Apologize...now…" Isabella breathed out, as he purged himself harshly.

Edward refused, shaking his head, and taking one of her nipples in his mouth. She moaned at the sensations that ran rampant through her. This man would be the death of her, killing her slowly, bit by bit.

Edward twisted her body…and _oh, fuck_, she couldn't hold back anymore. Her orgasm came, searing through her system, pumping furiously. Isabella thought he was finished, but he rotated her body again, and another coiling churned, causing her to come a second time. Isabella had no moment of calm, for he was still going.

_She knew what he was doing._

He was apologizing until no words would be able to leave his mouth.

Isabella felt the tremor of his body release in her, thrusting for a final time. Holding her hips still, Edward emptied every drop he had. By this point, she was already depleted, physically and mentally.

In a very unlike Isabella move, she rested her head on his shoulder, catching her breath. "Good…boy…"

He carried her back to the table, handing her the designer dress. She was shaking, too unnerved to get dressed. He slipped on his clothes quietly. By the time he was finished, Isabella finally started to clothe herself, when she held up the scrap of panties in her hand. She had completely forgotten he had ripped them to shreds.

Edward smirked, and snatched them from her hands. Isabella looked in shock as he stuffed them into his back pocket. He walked towards the door and opened it slightly, making his way out.

"_For that, Isabella, I'm not sorry at all_."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Cue headache.

Add in one additional throbbing pussy.

They harmonized together, creating the perfect duet of a very miserable female. It took all of Isabella's strength to not curse out all beings named Cyllen and perk herself up Sunday afternoon for Mama's monotonous family dinner. They had been holding these feasts for as long as she could remember. It didn't matter what you were doing, where you were at, what excuse you had- if it was the Lord's day, you had better suck it up and take a seat at the formal dining room table.

So that's where she found herself at two o'clock sharp.

While Mama, or Renee De Luca as the public knew her, ran around the extravagant marble furnished kitchen cooking Osso Buco with red wine, Isabella listened to the indistinct ramblings of her father. Stephan De Luca was best known for being the biggest con artist of their generation. He had managed to _allegedly_ swindle approximately seven hundred million dollars from the U.S. government. It couldn't be proven of course, hence the fact that he was currently seated across from her, but the former politician had been embezzling money from his Senate position by blackmailing other officials, mainly the treasurer. He was a rigid Italian man, from his dark eyes and hair to his stiff posture; basically, he was the type of person you didn't fuck with. But he had one soft spot, and that of course, was reserved for his beloved children.

After meeting her college drop-out mother in a bar late one night, he had claimed her as his own and they married within six months. Not even a year later, came the birth of her eldest sister, Kristiana. Shortly after, her brother Roberto entered the world; he was just a year and three months younger than she was. Isabella, however, was what one would call the accidental baby, conceived six years later following a trivial argument and a bottle of whiskey.

Isabella was the golden child, not pursuing Roberto's career choice as an attorney, or trailing behind Kristiana's profession as a chef in the White House, to our Commander in Chief. No, instead she had inherited her father's ruthless tenacity and had worked her up to become the top hustler this side of the east coast. The name De Luca got her places, and held her there for fear of her father alone. She knew how a few residents in the community perceived her; she was basically a pimp, whoring out the innocent citizens of Washington. What they failed to understand was that she could not be successful without buyers. She gave them ass, and like a flock shadowing their shepherd, they pulled out their credit cards in rapid fashion, not giving a damn.

So at the end of the day, Isabella believed she held a clear conscience.

_I don't give a damn, either._

As her family gathered around the table to say grace, Papa looked at his youngest with concern.

"_Bella_," he began, in his somehow false, but rich Italian accent. "What's wrong?"

She grimaced, knowing her father was the only one she would ever allow to call her Bella. Or the fact that he liked to throw his faint knowledge of Italian language into her face.

_No, Papa, our great-great-great-great ancestors are from Italy. _

_You, and the wrinkly old hag otherwise known as grandmother, are not. _

Nonni was currently sleeping upstairs, probably succumbed to the elements of narcotic drugs and hard liquor. Isabella tried not to bother her when possible. Unlike her parents, she didn't exactly approve of her livelihood. Quite the hypocrite if you were ask her, considering she didn't mind living in her parent's illegally obtained multimillion dollar mansion. Isabella had to constantly remind herself not to stuff those designer pillows up grandmother's ass.

"No, Papa," she answered smoothly. "I'm fine. Work is draining, you know."

"Ahhh, Bella," he said, running his fingers through her hair like he did when she was a child. "You work too much. You need to take some time off."

Mama settled into her chair, looking ever so proper, making sure every detail of the meal and decorum was perfect. Roberto nodded in agreement as Kristiana snickered.

_Jealous bitch._

Isabella loved her siblings dearly, but resembled neither one of them. They both took after her mother, dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, thicker figures, while Isabella was her father's child. Her long dark hair and thin features were reflections of his own. Roberto was the charming big brother she had always looked up to, but Kristiana, while Isabella knew she loved her, was always on her ass for _something_.

_She needs a good fucking, _Isabella thought darkly.

"Thanks for your concern, Kristiana," she answered bitterly, remarking at her laughter.

"No problem, little sis," Kristiana mock smiled, her expression imitating a cat in heat. "Must be hard having other people fuck to make _you_ money."

"Must be hard being a fat ass that no one wants," Isabella retorted, hitting her sibling where it hurt the most. She knew her demanding job kept her so busy that she was didn't have the time to date, much less find a husband, but Kristiana thought it was because of her curvier body. Isabella preyed on her weakness whenever she could.

"Enough!" Mama said sternly, but calmly. "Let's say grace and eat."

Kristiana appeared to be on the verge of tears, Roberto looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, and Papa winked at Isabella while patting her hand.

_Once a favorite, always a favorite._

The family all grasped hands at the far right end of the long, oval shaped table, and bowed their heads. Papa prayed, and in spite of who he was and all the wicked he had done in his lifetime, he constantly believed that his sins would be pardoned because he attended church every Sunday. Isabella didn't exactly hold the same thoughts, but she wasn't one to judge. She needed all the prayer she could get.

"Amen!" they all ended in unison and passed the dishes of food around. The room was filled with the sounds of chewing wine glasses clinking.

Papa made sure Isabella's business was still on the up-and-up, asking her if she needed any financial assistance. As usual, Isabella turned him down. While her company was, _er_, questionable, Papa never belittled her choices. In fact, he was delighted when she began her venture into the corporate domain. At the end of the day, De Luca was renowned, and that's all that mattered.

"_In life you will be mocked and ridiculed, Bella_," he always told her. "_But in death, you will triumph as a legend_."

Isabella never truly grasped the concept of his lectures, usually nodding as if she comprehended his delusions. She wasn't sure if that's how she wanted to die, her tombstone reading the quotes of lies she had never lived. However, Isabella promised she would accomplish anything that made her family proud. Honor, on the other hand, was a whole different story.

After dinner, and a rejection from Mama to help clean up the dishes, Isabella made her way through the house to sit outside on the patio area. Their estate was on an incredible one hundred and fifty acres, spread across the elite properties that lay unknown to most in the city. It hosted eleven bedrooms, nine bedrooms, high vaulted ceilings, and enough furniture that cost more than what third world countries produced.

The accommodation of a small hangar lay outside the left, which had a mile long runway, most needed for her father's shady business travels, and he wouldn't have to deal with the public airports and security. Their entire property lay surrounded by iron gates, etched with the family name, at the entrance to protect the people within. The outside decorum was influenced by a formal Chateau feature, designed to bring a sense of vacation aura to the Metropolitan area in which we lived. The front held extensive hand carved pillars and when walking towards the back, was bordered by several swimming pools, and recreation courts next to a French Victorian courtyard.

All in all, it was lavishly excessive.

But her father made no apologies for his lifestyle, the way he wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills. If it wasn't for her mother having breasts, Isabella would swear he would have married money. It drove him to be the merciless man that he was today. He excluded power from just the way he stood; the words that left his mouth just confirmed his no-bullshit attitude.

Isabella lay under the gazebo with a glass of wine in her hand, its content rebelling against her migraine headache. As soon as she felt the lips kiss her forehead, she knew it was her brother joining her as the sky welcomed the night in the distance.

The cool summer temperatures caused her to shudder, and Roberto covered her with his expensive suit jacket.

"A penny for your thoughts, _sorella_," he said slyly, a grin twitching on the edge of his mouth.

Isabella kept her eyes closed, and chuckled inwardly at his use of Italian for the word, sister. Even though he was the highest paid attorney in the area, he had quite the jokester personality to him, and Isabella knew she could always count on him to make her laugh.

"Ahh, it will cost you much more than that," she countered back.

"Too rich for my blood," he snickered, giving way to defeat. "What's wrong with you tonight? You seem…distracted."

She dismissed his claims and shook her head. Isabella was about to reply when her cellular phone rang on the glass table beside her.

She glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes.

"Who is that?" Roberto asked, his eyes scrunching in concern. While he would never care to know the details of his sister's life, he was always watching out for her wellbeing.

"One of my whores," she answered indifferently.

"It's not nice to call Emmett that," he jested. "You know we consider him one of the family."

Her gaze settled on the sprawling grass surrounding them, taking in the botanical gardens. "No, it's not Emmett. It's the newbie I mentioned earlier."

Roberto continued to pierce her with his eyes until she continued. "His name is Edward Cyllen. Fucker can't take a hint."

Her brother gave her a look that resembled disgust.

"Cyllen?" he asked, the sound seeming to saturate his tongue with revulsion.

"You know him?" Isabella sat up straighter; surprised that he may be acquainted with the man who was the source of her migraine.

"You sure do know how to pick 'em," Roberto responded cryptically. "His family is trash, Isabella. His father is Carlisle Cyllen. _The_ Carlisle Cyllen."

Isabella kept the puzzled expression on her face until he explained. "Dammit, do you ever hear anything that doesn't have to do with you?"

She curled back, surprised at her sibling's unusual harsh tone. He immediately began his apologies. "Sorry. Isabella, listen. You can't just let any ragdoll off the street into your business. Carlisle is the asshole that turned Papa in. Remember? We were standing on the steps outside the courthouse and the police are dragging out the guy with blonde hair with green eyes? Never mind, you were too young to remember what was going on…"

Isabella tried unsuccessfully to bring that image back into her subconscious. Unfortunately, she was just twelve years old when the trial for her father began. All she could recall was that her Papa was facing a possible life sentence in prison. The details themselves were too fuzzy.

"Mr. Cyllen, former assistant to the treasurer, wanted in, to be a part of Papa's embezzlement scheme. Of course, you know that wasn't going to fly. Papa turned him down, and in return, Carlisle turned him into the police. But that asshat had stolen a small portion of cash for himself. He hadn't covered up his tracks, so he was found guilty when our father wasn't. He hadn't pocketed too much, just a few hundred thousand dollars, but it was enough that he served time in prison. I believe he got out recently, within the past year or two. I hear his family lost everything, and they are living on the shitty side of town. Uggh," he finished, with a sickening tremor running through his body.

Isabella let the information soak in, not seeing what his son had to do with his father's failings. Roberto noticed her hesitance and answered for her.

"Isabella, you run a fucking illegal business and you employed a person whose relatives betrayed our own. Like father, like son. Once a rat, always a rat. When Papa finds out you're mingling with those lowlifes, don't come crying to me when he hands you your ass on a silver platter."

Isabella took a sip of wine and set it feebly back onto the glass setting. "Cyllen wouldn't do that. He's _my _whore, he's the one doing more criminal activity than I am."

Roberto clicked his tongue, and rose up to leave. "It's your choice, Isabella. I think it's a stupid one, but it's yours nonetheless. His father was a foolish, greedy man. Just don't give that Edward kid a reason to fuck you over. Everyone always has a motive, whether its money, sex, power, revenge…something. He's scum, just like his family. It's one thing to be a con, like Papa. He didn't just get that shit overnight. He paid his dues to society. It's another to be a vampire, sucking the life out of others. Cyllen is a leech. Plain and simple. "

As Roberto left the gazebo, Isabella thought about the funds that were now emptied out of her bank account to pay Edward.

_Just don't give that Edward kid a reason to fuck you over._

_Too late_, she reminisced.

_I already did._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Isabella managed to lift the large stack of manila folders from the file cabinet and searched through them until she found the one she was searching for. Seated on the floor of her office in an unladylike position, Isabella wiped away the tendrils of hair that were sweeping across her eye. This was not exactly how she wanted to spend her mornings at the office, but this needed to be done.

_If I found any incriminating evidence, Edward Cyllen's days were limited._

After speaking with her brother last night, Isabella was stunned to find that Edward was the son of the man who had attempted to put her father away. He hadn't given her a reason to not trust him, of course, but that's how liars worked. They wore the face of an innocent, but had the motives of the guilty. She didn't give second chances, or for people to explain themselves. If Edward was indeed here for reasons other than to make money, his ass would be out on the street within seconds. She would make sure of that.

As the clock ticked the minutes away, she fingered her way through each of the records until she stumbled across his name. Rosalie usually handled the paperwork, Jasper managed the background checks, and Isabella had the final say during the interview. But this time, instead of her usual scan, Isabella carefully read through any information that would seem misleading or suspicious. As Roberto had mentioned earlier, Edward's current address was located on the dangerous side of D.C. No one chose to live there; where subsidized housing was the norm. It was usually infiltrated with the likes of homeless people, drug dealers and the occasional single mother down on her luck. He had no college educational degree, and worked several mediocre fast food jobs until now. Nothing seemed out of place, but it was very obvious his family members' names were not anywhere on the documents. Isabella required some sort of references and the only name he had on there was a 'family friend,' Alice Brandon.

Isabella didn't call her after his interview, immediately hiring him on the spot since he seemed so desperate to work, but now considering the circumstances, she just might have to check him out.

After shoving the additional folders back into the cabinet, Isabella hit the speaker button on her phone to summon Jasper Cameron into her office.

At the age of twenty-eight, Jasper was a quiet man of strength and intensity. With his shortly cropped blonde hair and solid physique, he still retained some of his prior Marine habits. He appeared at her door, rigid and formal as ever.

"Yes, Miss Isabella?" he asked evenly.

She thrust the manila folder into his hands before he could utter another word. "This is Edward Cyllen's paperwork. I'm going to need you to run a background check on him. I need any information within the next twenty-four hours. I want to know everything there is about him. What kind of car he drives, what he eats for breakfast, when he takes a shit. Whether its day or night, I need you to call her immediately if you find anything at all."

Jasper pulled his eyebrows together and looked at her concern. "Not to step out of line, ma'am, but we already did the background check, remember?"

Isabella sighed and tried to keep her cool, gritting through her teeth. "I _know _that Jasper, but that was just criminal record information. I need more. But if this is too much for you…"

She allowed her words to linger in the air, knowing he would take the bait. "Of course not. Twenty-four hours and not a second later."

He twisted on his foot and began to leave but stopped suddenly. "Oh, and there's a visitor waiting for you in the lobby."

She frowned and swiveled in her chair. "Do you know who it is?"

He shook his head, and his gaze flickered to whoever was outside of her office. "No. But she sure is pretty."

Isabella rolled her eyes at his assessment. "Goodbye Jasper."

She waved her hand towards Rosalie, nodding to the petite girl that was dressed…well, like a hooker. Her dark hair was slightly past her shoulders, and her face was beautiful, but all Isabella could focus on was her pleather, _yes, pleather_, skirt and jacket. Her look was completed with tacky fishnet stockings and extremely high cheap looking boots.

Isabella quirked her eyebrow at Rosalie and she shrugged, apparently not knowing who the girl was. She nodded towards her so that she could get the girl into her office.

Isabella walked back in and sat behind her desk, already appalled at the visitor. The girl came in, and sat down, chewing a large wad of bubblegum loudly.

"Spit it out," Isabella said, indicating her eyes to the trash can.

"You Isabella?" the hooker asked loudly, ignoring her previous demand.

"Yes. Now spit the gum out _now_," Isabella repeated. It hadn't even been a minute and she was already annoyed with her visitor.

"Sorry, no can do. I likes my Bubblicious," she said, and to prove her point, she blew a large bubble, the pink candy forming a large bubble, which she popped and chewed again with ease.

Swearing silently, Isabella struggled to keep her cool. She had never had anyone blatantly disregard her before.

"Listen up, you little bitch. You can throw that shit out in the trashcan or you can leave my fucking office. I've got better things to do."

The girl's eyes widened, and in slow motion, she removed the disgusting wad from her mouth and threw it away. "Geez, it was just gum. What crawled up your ass and died?"

_Evidently the gun I'm going to shoot you with, _Isabella thought ominously. It was obvious this girl had no verbal filter.

She hated her already.

Isabella quickly sized her up to be the average good girl pretending to be bad. The clothes were tawdry, but she knew expensive makeup and hair when she saw it. Those dark locks had the shine of a Paul Mitchell's commercial, but her cocky attitude was that of an over privileged college student. It didn't settle well with her.

_At all._

"Who are you and what do you want?" Isabella asked bluntly.

"Those are not the questions to ask, Isabella De Luca," she said, leaning in to steal her personal space. "The question is, what can _I_ do for _you_?"

Before Isabella could interrupt with a statement of her own, she continued. "You need me, Isabella. I've got tits that set me back twenty grand, a size two waist, and I can deep throat like a motherfucker. Years of gymnastics taught me to be flexible and bend every which way humanly possible. Every man I have ever been with has always been left satisfied, and wanting more. I can fuck multiple men at the same time, or do the dirty with a girl. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you are only pulling in several million a year and I can triple your profits with just my pussy alone."

She pauses and pulls out portfolio from her large bag. "Here is my background, completed and without any prior offenses. Also included are my resume, several references, and my tests, which I can proudly say are clean and clear. You wanna go through my papers, that's fine. But you remember that you are losing both time and money. And if there's one thing I don't fuck with, it's money. You look over that and get back to me when you can."

The girl stood and grabbed her bag, adjusting it over her shoulder. Isabella was so dumbfounded; she didn't notice her visitor nearly exiting the door. Her snarky attitude had her more intrigued than she wanted to admit.

"Wait! What's your name?" Isabella asked, not bothering to look at her papers.

"Alicia," she answered simply.

"But you can call me Alice. Alice Brandon."

It didn't take her long to connect the dots that this was the same name on Edward's application. Isabella wasn't sure if that's how she found out about her business; it's not as if they went around advertising on the local transit bus.

To see if she could live up to all that she propositioned, Isabella pressed the call button on her phone.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah, BB?" the gruff voice uttered through the speaker.

"I've got a newbie in her office claiming to have pussy made of gold," Isabella stated, raising her eyebrow. "I need you in here to test her out."

"_Let's see exactly how much she's worth_."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was distaste in Emmett's mouth that had filtered from the depths of his lungs. While he loved his best friend without fail, it was her domineering nature that had him questioning why was he so compliant to her. And this morning was no different.

With a sigh, he tentatively opened Isabella's door and held it open slightly, revealing a young woman who was dressed rather provocatively. How she even got into the building was beyond him. Behind the desk stood Isabella, a smirk crossing her lips in a fashion that resembled a cat pouncing on its prey.

"Ahhh, Emmett, come in _bestie_," Isabella sneered, laughing privately at some inward joke that no one other than herself was privy to.

Emmett remained at the entrance and refused to enter. "I can't, BB. I have to go. I have an appointment in an hour."

It was only because he knew his friend inside and out, that he noticed the slight disappointment developing in her eyes, but it was gone in a flash.

"Fine," she sighed, her words coming out harsher than necessary. "Is Paul here?"

Emmett shook his head with regret.

"Nope," he answered, popping out the 'p'. "Jacob's gone too. They had a double today."

Isabella thought for a split second, and then barked out an order. "Go get me Jasper."

Emmett gasped, and presumed he had misunderstood BB's directions. "Jasper? Jasper's not even-"

Isabella cut her eyes at him, and Emmett knew when to shut up. He shook his head in defeat to find the unfornatute man who was now going to be a sexual guinea pig.

_From bodyguard to whore_, Emmett thought. _And they say you can't move up in this business._

Emmett retreated and found Jasper hanging out by the water cooler. Well, not hanging, per say, rather standing rigidly surveying the premises as if any moment someone would bomb the place. Highly unlikely, but he knew Jasper would take no chances

Without an explanation, Emmett pointed to Isabella's door, indicating that he needed her. Jasper jumped with exuberance, always willing to be the man for the job. If he only knew what Isabella would need him for now. Emmett chuckled and strolled towards the elevator, glad he would not be the one testing out the new girl. His appointment wasn't until tonight, but BB didn't need to know that.

She would bitch him out later. And he was okay with that.

Jasper entered Isabella's office, shutting the door behind him. He didn't know what other instructions she needed besides the Cyllen files, but he was willing to do anything for her or her business. He was a trustworthy bodyguard, but most of all he respected her, without a doubt. She may have been the daughter of the infamous Stephan De Luca, but she always had a soft side that showed up once in a blue moon.

You just had to know the moment when to look for it.

However, in her office was the attractive, if not poorly dressed girl that was seated in the lobby from earlier. Jasper always kept a professional expression about his face, but even he could not hide the smile that formed on his lips when he looked at her. When you stripped away the make-up and gaudy clothes, she was absolutely stunning. Nothing about cheap looking shoes could take that away.

"Like what you see, Jasper?" Isabella asked, interrupting Jasper's inner monologue.

At a loss for words, Jasper choked out inarticulate mumblings as Isabella finished her statement. "Jasper, all of my employees are out today. This is Alice Brandon. She thinks she can be out-whore my whores. I need to see if this is true."

Jasper, although highly intelligent, still couldn't gather the purpose of what Isabella wanted from him. He was about to voice his questions when she kept speaking. "Jasper, I need you to fuck Alice. Emmett had to go, and Paul and Jacob-"

He didn't want for his boss to complete her sentence. "What? I'm sorry Miss Isabella, but I'm not…I can't…I don't…"

"Jasper, you can and you will."

"But…but, I'm not even-"

Alice, in the meantime, smiled and watched the conversation in front of her like a tennis match. Of course, this man looked like he didn't have sex for money, but he was rather cute. Much better than the larger Emmett guy that was in here previously.

If she wanted Ms. De Luca to take her seriously, she had to take the situation by the horns. Alice knew what needed to be done, and was willing to take control.

She batted her eyelashes, overtly flirting in a way that no man could resist. "Do you not want me?"

Jasper's mouth gaped open like a fish caught on a hook. Of course he wanted her, what man wouldn't? Her body was sculpted like that of a Grecian statue, but her voice. Oh, her voice was seductively calling to him. He had never heard bells like that before. Sweet and alluring all in the same tone.

Isabella sat back down in her chair and let her visitor take charge. She would need to find out more about this Brandon girl, obviously, but there was no harm in watching the entertainment unfold before her. So she did just that, wishing she had a bucket of popcorn for the show.

Alice trailed a slender finger around Jasper's neck, walking around him in a small circle, assessing his masculine frame. He shivered at the touch of this stranger, this whore, looking him up and down like a piece of meat.

"You know what I like about you, _Jasper_?" Alice cooed, her hands now manipulating his hair. "You have sexy eyes."

"I…I do?" Jasper choked out, still tightly standing in his position.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "And your muscles. They are so big and strong."

Jasper had to hold his nervous intact, as Alice maneuvered her fingers up and down his broad chest.

Isabella was trying to hold in her laughter. It was like an 80's porn gone horribly wrong. All Jasper needed was a mustache and they were good to go.

"Oh, and your mouth. Such a sexy mouth," Alice continued, her voice dripping like cream.

Isabella sat up a little straighter, watching as Alice flattered Jasper on his body, slowly circling around him. She was dressed devilishly, but something about the way she talked, was innocent. Demure. Angelic, even.

And that's when Isabella understood. Jackpot!

_She's good_, Isabella thought. _She is very, very good_.

Most people assumed that a man's erogenous zone lied beneath the zipper of his pants. While that was true, men were also very sensitive creatures. In some ways, they could even be more delicate than women. That's if you had the right man. So if you had a man, like Jasper, there was only one subtle way to seduce him.

Compliments.

Yes, like a pimply faced teenager being turned down at the prom, Jasper just needed to be reassured of his masculinity. Butter him up, and the pants come down.

Alice began to unbutton Jasper's all black uniform that he wore on a daily basis. Basic dark collared shirt, and matching slacks. Even the shoes were a dark shade, the same ones from his stint in the military. Comfortable for walking, but able to be used for running if needed.

"Do you like _my_ mouth?" Alice questioned, making sure Jasper's eyes were locked on hers. He nodded, and she slowly pulled his top out of his pants. His heart was beating faster, but something about the girl's eyes kept him trapped. He couldn't think about anything except the words that were flowing from her like a calming waterfall.

The dark haired beauty was ever zealous in proving to Isabella her bedroom skills, but today she would demonstrate her ability to seduce the man before her. Keeping her gaze on Jasper, she removed her hands from his body to eradicate her own clothing. Alice had once performed ballet when she was a child, and it was an advantage she used now. She enticed her audience by dancing without music to strip down to the expensive lingerie she had on underneath. If Jasper were to ever die a happy man, then he would gladly welcome death at the mercy of the woman that was capturing his attention.

The all black lace bra and coordinating garter belt and thong that Alice wore was enough to make lose his breath.

Which reminded him, breathing was good.

_Must breathe_, he muttered to himself.

Easier said than done.

Alice's rounded breasts, which he assumed were more silicone than real, did nothing to deter the erection that was straining against his pants. Her skin also had an unnatural color, most likely the result of too many hours spent in a tanning bed. Either way, she was exquisite.

Isabella leaned forward as the show progressed. She had to admit, Alice Brandon was quite the talent, but it all boiled down to how well she could perform.

"Jasper," Alice purred, in an almost song-like voice. "I'm going to take off your clothes now. Is that okay?"

The former soldier nodded, still too shocked to utter a sound. Alice blinked her large doe eyes at him shyly, as if _he_ were the one asking _her_ for permission. To make him more comfortable, she kissed him on the neck, sucking and licking the salty flesh below his ear. Even Isabella could hear the groan from where she was.

She crossed her legs to pretend like she wasn't getting as aroused as Jasper was, and took a sip of water to erase the flush from her face.

Alice touched Jasper lightly, carefully unzipping his pants until they fell to the ground. His large erection stood forthright, and both women internally applauded his size.

Coming out of his daze, Jasper gently grasped Alice's face, and kissed her tenderly. It could be noted that Jasper Cameron was both a lover _and _a fighter, and it showed with the way he appreciatively touched Alice.

Alice slowly moved Jasper backwards, with him almost tripping over his entangled shoes and pants, until he fell back onto the leather couch that overtook Isabella's office. Still meagerly dressed, she straddled his lap after removing his pants and shoes for him. They kissed provocatively, Jasper becoming more confident by the second. Alice made her way to her knees, kneeling between his legs on the lush, white carpet. Jasper twitched with anticipation as Alice pulled his cock out of his boxers and licked from the base to the tip.

_This I have to see_, Isabella reasoned, standing up and walking over to get a better look.

Jasper gasped as the warm temperature of her mouth correlated with the cool air of the office. He leaned backwards, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as Alice continued to torture him with her tongue. Then, in one quick movement, she engulfed him.

With no bearings other than the arms of the sofa, Jasper grabbed it tightly. He no longer cared that his boss was watching him bare, or that the sight of Alice in between his legs almost made him come. His only concern was the pleasure she was bringing him. While he was no virgin, the past blow jobs he received were average at best.

But Alice…she was the motherfucking queen of blowjobs.

He momentarily pondered on how he would be able to find a crown when a slender hand touched him beneath his penis.

Oh God.

She was actually rubbing his balls. In slow circular motion.

While sucking him.

And stroking him.

It was too much. The environment, her beauty, her sexual prowess…

He gently grabbed the back of her hair just as a warning that he was about to come. He could no longer hold back the orgasm that was lurking in his abdomen.

Jasper wasn't sure of it was polite to blow the load in her mouth or not, but he never got the chance.

"Stop!" Isabella shouted, much too loud.

Alice jumped back immediately, and all poor Jasper could do was hold his erection that had been sorely neglected.

"W-what?" Jasper gasped out, barely containing his confusion.

Isabella snickered, not fully understanding how much the term blue balls could truly hurt. Instead, she held out her hand to Alice.

"You're hired. Welcome to Twilight," she said proudly.

Alice squealed, forgetting to maintain her professionalism and grasped Isabella in a tight embrace.

"Oh! You won't regret it! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

She continued to shriek as she grabbed her clothing from the floor.

Isabella would never admit it, but it wasn't Alice's use of her mouth that had led her to hire her on the spot.

It was the way she walked and talked; her act of seduction. It was how she made a timid, rigid man like Jasper fall weak at the knees that had stunned Isabella. She knew without a doubt, that if her oral skills were that proficient, then her services in the bed would be just as effective.

"Not so fast," she prompted. "Stay for a little so we can go over paperwork and chat. Jasper, you may go now."

As Alice hurriedly dressed in delight, Jasper bit his tongue and held back the not-so-nice words that he wanted to spew at a certain cock-blocking _Miss Isabella_.

The only reason he didn't was because he needed this job.

Whereas Jasper Cameron was plotting ways to torment his boss, Edward Cyllen was on the other side of town, grasping his phone in a dark movie theater and wondering two equivalent thoughts.

_One, why hadn't Isabella called him back from yesterday?_

_And two, where the hell was Alice?_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Edward was a tired soul. It was the only description that could label both his immediate circumstances and his life. After impatiently waiting and finally concluding that Alice would not be joining him for an afternoon movie, he grabbed his overly priced large soda and candy and apologized as he brushed past the elderly couple in the sparsely occupied theater.

It was typical of Alice to not show up for any engagement that they had planned. He wasn't worried, just annoyed at her lack of being discourteous for other's time. While they had only known each other for just a few months, she was quite the ray of sunshine in his life. It was at his mother's insistence that he become more social, and he met the extroverted girl at a local show on the uppity side of the city. One of his favorite bands was playing, and he begrudgingly dragged himself out his parent's small apartment to attend. It didn't take long as he sat at the bar nursing a beer that Alice walked up and made him dance.

They had been friends ever since.

She was on the other side of the tracks, wealthy and a senior at the local university. Edward was quiet and shy, uneducated and poor. They were vastly different, but they balanced each other out.

Edward paced to out in the summer heat towards his old, gray coloured Volvo. The car he had saved up money to buy was constantly causing him trouble, but he refused to give it up. It was his baby, and he was proud to have something that he bought with his own money.

Unlike his father, but that was a different story for a different day.

After begging prayers and several turns to the ignition, the car rumbled to life, and Edward weaved in and out of the city's busy traffic until he parked in front of his apartment building. He locked the doors manually and kept his head down from the local neighbors as he ran up the crumbling steps.

He didn't live in a fairy land; he knew damn well he lived in the ghetto. You didn't linger outside for longer than necessary unless you were dealing drugs or buying them. The outside brick, three-storied structure that was covered in graffiti mimicked the inside. As he entered through the door, he tried to ignore the dingy walls whose paint was peeling and the cracks from water damage. The smell of marijuana strongly filtered his nostrils and he held his breath as he flew up one flight of steps to apartment 2B.

Home sweet home.

He didn't bring anyone here. Not that he had friends, but even when Alice begged, he made up an excuse about his mother being sick. Edward was absolutely ashamed of his living situation and often longed for the days of his previous middle-class house that remained a mere dream in the suburbs.

But those were just memories, and he knew there was no point in fantasizing of a better life.

"Sweetie? Back so soon?"

Esme Cyllen emerged from the kitchen, a baffled look upon her face. It was once said that Esme was quite the beauty, but years of stress and hardship had replaced her beauty with wrinkles, hard lines, and disorderly locks of copper hair. The green eyes in which he had inherited were no longer shining, but rather glazed over and replaced with a darker shade of jade.

Edward kissed his mother on the cheek and sighed.

"Yeah Mom, Alice was a no-show."

She patted his shoulder. "Oh you know how busy those college girls can be. She probably had to study or something."

Edward nodded, not bothering to tell her that Alice didn't have class today. "Where's Dad?"

Esme shifted on her feet and walked towards the tiny, rundown kitchen to stir the pot of soup that was on their ancient stove. "He's sleeping. Not feeling good, you know?"

Edward rolled his eyes and refused to acknowledge the truth. "Not feeling good" meant that Carlisle Cyllen had once again fallen into a drunken stupor. Instead of getting out of prison and changing his life for the better, he drank every day and refused to look for work. He had never believed in divorce, but why a strong woman like his mother wouldn't just kick his ass out already, he didn't understand.

Esme stirred the soup and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Oh! Guess what? I received a letter from Mason today. He's doing well. His battalion is supposed to be switching locations soon, but he sent these pictures."

Esme handed Edward an envelope that Specialist Cyllen, Edward's fraternal twin brother, had mailed to them from Afghanistan. Edward grimaced, and put on a fake smile. He loved his brother, but felt deeply betrayed.

At twenty-four, Mason had abandoned him and joined the army, seeking a better livelihood. They were supposed to be partners, instead, Mason claimed he "needed to get out of this shithole" and signed his life over to the government. Edward couldn't fault him for that, of course, but it still hurt him to the core. The past two years had been hell without him. When their Dad had gone on drunken rampages, Edward didn't have Mason to help him. He felt alone and deserted that he had been left to pick up the pieces of his family's mess.

Edward scanned the letter, silently grateful that his brother's troop was transferring out of Afghanistan to a smaller remote city. Enclosed were several pictures of his brother and his mates, all smiling in the blistering heat of the sandy country. Edward's heart wrenched at the sight of his successful and happy brother.

Mason was the only reason his family survived on a day-to-day basis. He sent money home when he could. Esme worked part-time at a local hotel, and because of her lack of education and the economy, that was all the work she could find. Carlisle refused to get off his behind, and Edward, well…

He had yet to tell anyone besides Alice about his career choice. If his mother ever found out, his ass was grass. They had been brought up with morals, and the term prostitution couldn't be hidden behind good intentions. Edward was saving up money to get his family out of this place. Until then, he put every dime in a shoebox under his bed and cursed himself daily that he and his kin were still living on food stamps.

He knew he was too old to be living at home, but unlike Mason, Edward couldn't bear to leave Esme behind with her monster of a husband. He wasn't abusive, but he tended to get loud and say things he shouldn't when he was drunk. Carlisle remained on probation and justified his laziness as a way to stay out of trouble. If he stayed home all day, he wouldn't get thrown back into prison over the littlest thing. It was noble in theory, that is, until they all starved to death. The only time Edward had dipped into his savings was to pay the back rent, claiming he had done some yard work for some wealthy homeowners across town. Esme was beyond grateful, and it was only because he had seen the stress leave her delicate face that he continued to be a whore.

Edward excused himself, refusing their meager lunch of vegetable homemade soup, and made his way into his tiny faded blue bedroom. Clustered underneath the window were his full sized bed, an old dresser in front of him and a narrow door leading to the bathroom that connected his and Mason's bedroom. Mom and Dad's bedroom was down the hallway, but the three bedroom apartment held no luxuries. Every room was small, the hardwood floor was cold, and even though Esme tried to keep their humble abode clean, it would never be enough. However, that didn't stop crack-heads from breaking and entering at least once a year. Edward couldn't count the number of times their small television and used DVD player had been stolen. He finally installed several dead bolt locks to protect what few items they had.

Edward lay down and checked his cellphone, the one expensive electronic he owned which was given to him by Isabella for business purposes. Neither she nor Alice had returned his phone calls.

He settled onto his scratchy comforter, cursing his father for being the reason all of their belongings had been pawned off to pay his legal fees. He rested into a slumber, trying to sleep before his appointment tonight.

He hated who he was, and what he to do in order to survive, but he would never regret it.

In fact, he often thanked Isabella for hiring him when there were no other jobs available.

_If only she knew_, he thought.

_If only she knew._


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Edward awoke to a tune in his ear, and stirred at the sound of music. Peeking through one eye, he glanced at the phone on his pillow and jumped when he discovered the music was indeed his ringer.

He fumbled several times, yanking the cellular phone off the charger and answering it before looking at the screen.

"Hello? Hello?" he answered quickly, attempting to answer the caller before his answering machine came on.

"Is that how you talk to your boss?" a smooth voice filtered through the phone.

Edward cursed as he bumped his knee against the wall, and then again at his lack of poise.

"Oh, um, sorry Miss Isabella. I apologize. I was, er…." He trailed off, not wanting to appear lazy for sleeping on a Monday afternoon. Although the night sky sifting through his window alerted him that it was now dark outside.

He pulled the device away from his ear and saw that it was past eight. He had an appointment at nine and Harry, the company's driver, would be pulling up at any moment.

"Never mind what you were doing. I need you to come meet me at my place in thirty minutes," she ordered hastily.

Edward held back his confusion, appreciative that their communication was over the phone rather than in person. "Uhh, Miss Isabella. I can't. I have an appointment in less than an hour. With Mrs. Florence James."

He could practically see the rolling of her eyes through the phone. "Never mind that. Change of plans. It's already been taken care of. Thirty minutes Mr. Cyllen. See you then."

And with that came the silence of a dial tone. He muttered to himself, wondering what she could possibly need. He was indebted to his boss, but he was now out thousands of dollars. Mrs. James was the wife of the school superintendent. He wasn't happy to be gallivanting around with married customers, but still.

Money was money.

And he needed it. Badly.

Edward quickly jumped into the shower, and dried off, not bothering with his hair. There was no calming his copper and blonde coloured locks. They had a mind of their own. Not wanting to appear disheveled in front of his superior, he put on his best black slacks and green collared shirt. He finished the look with a simple matching tie and leather black shoes. His pay at Twilight also included a clothing budget, but he kept most of those items in his car. There was no way he could explain to his mother how he obtained Gucci shirts.

Grabbing his wallet and phone, he tried unsuccessfully to leave his bedroom unnoticed. His father was sitting on the couch, watching a static television show with glassy eyes. The former treasurer's assistant was currently unrecognizable, for several days' worth of unshaven hair covered his face.

"Where you going, boy?" he asked drunkenly, taking another swig of cheap beer.

Edward rushed towards the door. "I'm meeting my friend, Alice."

He kept his voice hushed, trying not to alert his mother who was probably in her bedroom.

"Huh," he grunted and then put out an arm which stopped Edward in his tracks. "You stay away from them rich folks, you hear me? Nothing but trouble. They put you in jail and then won't bail you out. Fucking richies."

Edward was no stranger to his father's futile advice, often discounting his resentful mumblings. "Be back later, Dad. And take a shower. You smell horrible."

Fortunately for Edward, it was only until Harry had held open the limo door for him, that Carlisle threw his beer bottle against the door.

"Fucking richies."

_O.O.O.O.O.O.O._

The drive to the costlier side of D.C. took over thirty minutes, and Edward helped himself to a glass of wine inside the limousine. He had no idea what Isabella wanted, and he was positive she was going to rip him a new one for something he had done. It seemed she only kept him around because he made her funds, but she constantly gave the impression that she was annoyed at him for one reason or another. He hoped he wasn't getting fired, or worse yet, replaced.

Edward tapped on the limousine's divider and Harry let the glass down in between them. "Mr. Clearwater, are you waiting outside? I'm not sure how long I will be here."

The older man chuckled, and Edward noticed him tipping down his rearview mirror to look back at him.

"How many times have I told you? It's Harry. I was given instructions to drop you off. That is all. I have to go pick up Angela in a few minutes."

Edward apologized. "Sorry Harry. I'm just used to formalities, that is all."

"No problem. Relax son. I'm sure she just needed to talk to you. Although…"

Harry trailed off midsentence, not finishing his statement.

Edward's nervous heart pounded faster. "What? What is it?"

"She's never had me drive someone over to her apartment before. Did you do something?"

Edward thought long and hard. He had already been reprimanded for speaking to Emmett, but he couldn't think of anything else that would anger Miss Isabella. He made sure he was on time for all his appointments, dressed in the manner in which he was told, and always treated his customers with respect.

"Not that I know of," he finally answered, and groaned.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. This night was doomed to fail, and now he had to spend the last few dollars in his pocket just to get home.

Harry noticed Edward's dismayed expression and attempted to appease him as best as he could. He had been driving Miss Isabella's employees around since her business first started, and before that, her father. The De Luca family had been good to him, and in return he was faithful as well.

"I'm sure whatever it is, you will be okay. I've known Isabella since she was a little girl. Don't let her scare you."

On that note, Harry pressed the button and the glass returned to its upward position. He was never one to mingle in the family affairs.

Which was quite a feat.

There was more than one occasion in which he had to clean up Mr. De Luca's _incidents_ in the back of his limos.

Blood was a difficult substance to wash away.

Edward downed the rest of his wine and looked out the window as Harry pulled onto Franklin Boulevard. This area was where the elitist lived, every building spotless; every vehicle priced no less than fifty grand.

Harry finally parked in front of an apartment complex, a luxury high rise located in the heart of the city. He opened the door promptly for Edward and gave him final instructions.

"The top floor," Harry said. "Ring her doorbell twice. Once short, the second time long. Otherwise, she will not answer, whether she sees you or not."

Edward frowned at the odd orders.

"Security reasons," was the only answer Harry offered, and hopped back in the driver's seat to pull away. "Good luck."

With only his pride intact, Edward entered the lavish building and gasped in awe when he entered the lobby. Every inch was covered in marble, with gold trim to highlight the area. He quickly waved to the woman at the front desk and found the elevator.

His palms were sweaty and he wiped them against his pants, taking a deep breath as he pressed the top number, twenty-five. The elevator music did nothing to calm his nerves. It finally beeped; alerting him he had reached his designation.

When he stepped out, confusion, then amazement covered his features. Isabella didn't have an apartment on the twenty-fifth floor; her apartment _was_ the twenty-fifth floor. Well, it was more of a condominium, the hallway reflecting the downstairs waiting area.

Edward did as he was told, and pressed the doorbell accordingly. He heard stiletto heels clicking, and when the door opened, Edward struggled for air.

Clad in only a lace robe and meager lingerie that was barely held together by mere ribbons of silk, stood Isabella. No bra caused her full breasts to spill forth, and her panties crossed in a design that barely covered her bottom half.

She quirked her eyebrow at him, and walked into her condo, expecting him to follow her. Edward swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and shut the door behind him.

_This is it_, he thought. _This is how she's going to do it._

_She's going to fuck me, then fire me._

_She's going to fucking fire me._


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Once Edward entered Isabella's condo, he felt ashamed and dirty just being there. Each wall featured windows that hung from floor to ceiling, and curtains that cost more than his car. Even from his entry view, he could notice the fabric of the furniture was genuine Italian leather. The marble floors were nothing like the ones at his home, and her rugs were Persian.

The living room itself was the size of his entire apartment alone, and a centralized fireplace was in the front center of the room. Expensive decorative paintings adorned the light taupe walls, and the contrast of browns, cream, and gold of the chairs and ottomans were no different. Personal photos of family were right atop of the mantle and a large flat screen was hovering above.

Edward wanted to get a better look at the personal photos, but Isabella walked in the opposite direction, leading Edward to the open dining room, where a formal meal was spread out. A large grand piano also caught his eye to the right, and he pondered momentarily if she played.

"Sit down," she commanded, and so Edward did, taking a seat. He was too frightened of breaking any of the crystal glasses, so he touched nothing, merely keeping his hands in his lap. Even the napkins before him were a shade of stark white, and he was too destitute to even consider grazing it with his fingers.

Edward eyed the feast hungrily, as he had forgotten to eat the soup his mother had prepared earlier. There was a lavish roast in the center, garnished with leaves and seasonings he had probably never even heard of. He recognized the asparagus and the rice, but the other foods that filled the bowls were unrecognizable.

Isabella took her seat, not bothering to cover herself with another garment. He was quite warm, but it was most likely from the nervous adrenaline running through his veins. He rationalized that she must be freezing. Her nipples were taut against the sheer fabric of her brassiere.

Taking both of their glasses, Isabella filled them to the brim with Chianti wine, and formally placed Edwards' in his hands.

"A toast," she began sultry. "To legends."

She raised her glass and her eyes twinkled above as she waited for his words to mimic hers. Edward had no idea why she would want to toast 'legends,' but he was not one to ask questions. He raised his glass as well until it clinked against hers.

"To legends."

Always taught to be a gracious host, Isabella served both of their dishes, explaining all of the cuisine and the history behind them. They ate in silence, enjoying the meal with fervor and sipping the wine until they were both full.

After a dessert of cheesecake, Isabella put her silverware down and glanced at Edward. She had always recognized his handsome looks, but it was his imperfections under the light of the crystal chandelier that impressed her as well. She noticed how his hair was constant irritation for him, and he brushed it constantly. His face was sculptured flawlessly and the unevenness of his nose only added to his handsome appearance.

Considering his introverted demeanor, she wondered if he ever noticed just how beautiful he was.

Across the table, Edward was also thinking along the similar lines. He fully appreciated Isabella's tight curves, and long frame, but it was the little features that captured his attention. Her bottom lip was full and plump from her wine drinking, and she often tucked her hair behind her ear. If one was really aware, they would detect how she was strong and confident, yet a layer of docility hid beneath the surface. He understood why she was callous with him often; she had a lifestyle that was burdensome. Not everyone comprehended that. She truly loved her business and would protect it at all costs. Her devotion and strength made her even more gorgeous than the physical aspects themselves.

"Thank you for the meal," Edward stated ever so courteously. He made sure he minded his manners, even though his unemployment was just over the horizon.

"You are welcome," Isabella replied, stunned at his compliment. "My Mama is a fine cook. She taught me well."

Silence hung in the atmosphere, before each party started to speak at once.

"Isabella, are you going to fire-"

"Edward, I brought you here because-"

They both laughed nervously.

"Ladies first," Edward offered generously, twisting his hands in his lap. If he was going to be without a job, he wanted to get it over with. He needed to call a cab soon. Arriving late in his neighborhood was not a good idea.

Isabella took a deep breath and started over. "Edward, why did you call me last night?"

Startled by the question, he fumbled with his napkin. "Oh, I needed to talk to you about the job. I was seeing if I could get an extra gig or two during the week."

Isabella frowned at his answer and shook her head. "You get paid plenty, why do you need extra appointments?"

Edward sighed and even he could see that whatever answer he gave would not sit well. She didn't understand. Wrong side of the tracks was a phrase she didn't, no _couldn't_, grasp.

Not wanting to give anything away, Edward hesitated on his answer.

_How do you tell your boss your family hardly had enough to eat and the money the government gave for food barely got them through the month?_

_How do you tell a woman whose shoes cost more than his rent that his family froze in the wintertime and nearly passed out in the summer heat because they were too poor to fix the thermostat? _

_How do you tell a "fucking richie" that you needed money to move out of the ghetto so that your twin brother could leave the army and not worry about killing himself on the front lines so that they could have a roof over their heads? _

_How do you explain that your father is a drunk and that you believe if you could just have enough money to buy a house that maybe he would stop and finally be a Dad again?_

_You couldn't._

So he gave the next best answer possible.

"I'm saving up to buy a car," Edward reasoned.

Isabella laughed. "A car?"

"Umm, yes?" he answered, praying she would accept his answer. "I mean, yes. I would like to buy a car. The one I own now is breaking down, and I would like a new one."

Isabella studied his expression for a moment. "You've been with Twilight a little while. You don't have enough yet?"

"Well, no…I mean yes…" Edward stuttered. "I mean I have enough to make payments, but I would like to buy one outright. So that's why I need more appointments."

Isabella regretfully shook her head. "Sorry, I can't. It's a liability. If something were to happen to you, we would be a man short. If you work too hard, then you'll get tired easily. Sex is enjoyable. But fucking…that shit wears you out."

Edward had to drag his eyes away from her lips when she talked so candidly. But that was not the answer he was looking for. The longer it took to earn money, the longer he would have to be a whore.

And that's not what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

"How about just one extra gig a week? That's all I'm asking. Please? Please Isabella? Please?"

If Isabella had listened closely enough, she would have heard the desperation in his voice. She would have considered the situation he was in, and what he was truly asking for. She might have even learned that Edward Cyllen was not a begging man, but he would do anything to help his family. Even sacrifice himself.

But Isabella was a selfish woman. What others perceived as desperation, she only understood that more gigs for Edward meant more of him fucking other women.

She couldn't explain why that bothered her, but it did. So she harshly turned down his request without a second thought.

"No."

"What?" The question left Edward's lips before he could stop himself.

"What do you mean, _what_? I said no, and I mean no. That's final."

"Fine."

Edward's next actions were without pondering, without deliberation. It was not planned, but he was on his feet before he could react. Anger was building up in the midst of his being, and he could not control it.

Edward, comparable to the cowardly lion, was finally growing courage. Or as the modern day phrase might claim:

He was growing a pair.

"No wonder you refuse give me more jobs. It's because you're going to fire me! I don't know why you couldn't just do it over the phone. No. Instead you had to drag my sorry ass all the way here, feed me a good meal that I'll never be able to enjoy again, just to tell me what a loser I am. But if you think you are gonna get some from me before you send me to the unemployment agency, then you have another thing coming, woman! I will not be used. I am a human being! I have feelings too. Just 'cause you're the boss and you think you are hot shit, doesn't mean anything. I refuse-"

That was all it took.

Isabella was on the other side of the table before she could come to terms with what she was doing. Her lips crashed against Edwards' in a mad fury of hatred and lust. How dare he yell at her! How dare he speak to her with such ferocity! She was not a woman that was accustomed to such disrespectful behavior, and yet, it stirred up a passion in her that she could not cease.

Edward, on the other hand, should have pushed her away in disgust. It was incomprehensible that she thought she could always control him sexually. However, when her delicate tongue entered his mouth, he was beyond all sense of restraint. He couldn't pull away her hands that had tangled into his hair, nor could he resist the way her lower body pressed against his growing erection. He was surrounded by the aroma of her vanilla scent, and the sensation of their mouths greedily kissing one another.

But he knew if he continued, he would hate himself tomorrow.

"Stop," he said, pulling away, holding her firmly by her arms.

Isabella, still aroused by the heat of his body, stood in shock at his declaration.

"Stop. I mean it. I am not some toy you can play with and then throw away when you grow tired. I only wanted this job to make money, but not like this. Not so you can fire me just after a few-"

Isabella regained her composure and knit her brows together. "Why do you keep saying that? I'm not firing you."

"What?"

She blew out a breath of frustrated air and stared into his dark lust filled eyes. "I'm not firing you. Whatever gave you that idea?"

Feeling foolish, Edward began to count off his reasons. "Well, first you canceled my appointment tonight. Then, you brought me here and Harry said you never bring anyone to your condo. Then, you wouldn't give me more dates throughout the week, then-"

Isabella cut off his absurd theories. "First of all, I didn't entirely cancel your appointment. I merely turned the job over to Jacob. Second of all, Harry is correct. I don't invite everyone over, so you should consider yourself privileged. Thirdly, I already told you I am not booking you more dates because you will grow weary. Your body needs to rest when it can. If you had waited, I would have explained to you that I brought you over here to ask you some questions. Yes, I very well could have delayed this conversation until tomorrow at the office, but it's more on the personal side and I wanted a chance to speak to you privately. But it's obvious that you are looking for a way out. If you don't want to work anymore, all you had to do was say so."

With her hands positioned on her hips, Isabella looked at Edward expectantly. He appeared to be truly embarrassed for his actions, and she concluded that he was so unlike her other employees. If Paul or one of the other men were in his situation, they would immediately start flying off at the mouth with excuses for their actions.

Edward was not just your average man.

He flustered under the scrutiny of her eyes and twisted his foot slightly. Isabella decided to put him out of his misery.

"It was less than proper for me to request your presence here, without you knowing the reason. Because of that, this evening has turned out to be less than enjoyable. I will let you sleep on it tonight, and if you wish to continue your employment, then I will see you in two days, seven o'clock sharp. If not, then I know you will have made your decision."

Edward found his grounding, and pondered how the tables had turned. "But I-"

Isabella found no reason to continue this conversation, or this gathering of puzzling minds. "Seven a.m. I will call a cab for you so that you may have a ride home. Goodnight, Mr. Cyllen."

She spun on the heels of her feet, and sauntered out of the room with her robe flowing behind her. In that moment, she decided that she would no longer invite guests to her condominium. As she dialed the number of a local cab company since she figured Harry would be busy, she knew now why she considered her home sacred.

She peeked out the door to make Edward was gone, but he had left one significant piece of evidence that he had been there.

Isabella could still taste Edward in her mouth.

_Never again will he come over_, she thought as she pulled her vibrator out of her nightstand.

_Never again_.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

To say that she hadn't slept well the past two nights was an understatement. Isabella rolled out of bed in a rush, running behind for work. She supposed it wouldn't matter bearing in mind she was the boss, still, she was known for her punctuation and expected the same from her employees. She made an effort to be an example to them, and in return they would demonstrate the same behavior. Isabella hurriedly got dressed and applied her make-up, grabbing some organic fruit on her way out the door. It was half an hour after seven, and she wondered if Edward was at the office anticipating her arrival. Or if he was coming at all. After the other night's disastrous exchange, it would not surprise her if he decided this life was not the one for him. He already seemed on edge, looking for a way out.

_I will make him stay_, she thought ruthlessly. She couldn't lose the profit he was bringing in, or…him. Whatever it took, whatever the costs, Edward Cyllen would not be quitting Twilight.

Not if she had anything to say about it.

Which she did.

Close to eight after a stop to Starbucks, Isabella took the elevator up to her business floor, making small talk with the other patrons in the compact area. She was not naïve to the way the stockbrokers of the building gawked at her openly. Giving a diminutive smirk, she stepped onto her floor as the doors pinged open.

The agency was already buzzing with the sounds of the employees chattering and moaning on the telephones. She bid good morning to Rosalie as she rounded the corner.

"Good morning, Miss Isabella. Running late, are we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. When Isabella didn't answer, she continued. "Edward Cyllen is waiting for you in the lounge. You also received a phone call from a Mr. Swan, and I left his number for you on your door. In addition, Jasper told me to give this to you."

She handed over a manila folder and Isabella tucked it under her arm, and made her way to her office, unlocking the door and grabbing the post-it note that was attached.

"Thank you Rosalie. Can you call Edward in here now?"

"Of course. Right away ma'am," she answered and hurried away.

Isabella put her belongings on her desk and turned her computer. Taking a sip of coffee, she quickly checked her appearance in her compact mirror, hoping she didn't appear as tired as she felt.

Within seconds, Edward knocked on the open door to alert her of his presence. Dressed in slacks and a lilac purple shirt and a royal shade tie, she noted that they matched. Isabella's own purple bandage dress highlighted her gold jewelry her father had bought her. It did not escape her attention of the darkened bags that laid beneath his eyes.

_He must have not slept well either_, she contemplated. _That makes two of us._

"Good morning, Miss Isabella," he greeted hoarsely.

"To you also, Edward. Come in, please," she said, gesturing to the set of chairs in front of her desk. Edward dutifully closed the door behind her, a somber expression burrowed on his face and took a seat.

"Would you like something to drink?" she offered, ready to grab bottled water from her mini fridge.

"No thanks."

Isabella frowned and decided small talk was not in order for that morning. "Have you decided upon your further employment here?"

Edward repeatedly fumbled his hands together and glanced everywhere but at his superior's face. "I guess I don't have a choice."

Confused at his answer, Isabella misinterpreted his response. "Everyone has a choice Edward. You are not forced to work. I thought I made that clear when I hired you. If at any time you wish to terminate your services, just say the word. I thought I had given you enough perks so that you would be happy…."

She trailed off as she discovered what the real issue was: money. It was always about money. That's why he asked for more work. She wasn't certain which vehicle he was interested in, but it surely had to be expensive if he hadn't saved up the means to buy one yet.

Isabella opened the drawer and pulled out her checkbook. Writing a large sum on the black line, she shoved the check across the desk before Edward had a chance to argue.

Edward glanced at the number with wide eyes and shook his head. "What? No!"

Misconstruing his stutters, Isabella sighed and quickly jotted out another check. "Is this enough?"

Edward's eyes skimmed at the six digit figure in disgust. "Miss Isabella! I don't want your money!"

She calculated the words that spewed from his mouth. They didn't make sense. They didn't add up. It was an expression she had never heard before. It was if he were speaking a foreign language that originated from a country she had yet to visit.

Isabella was not one to give up. Surely, there had to be some amount that would keep Edward there. She needed him. He was a hot commodity, and her profits had swelled in just the short time he had been hired.

Picking up her pen again, she started to write the seven figure number on the check, when Edward reached his hands across the desk to stop her. The ink drew a straight line, ruining the payment she was ready to offer.

"Miss Isabella, stop! I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Money," he spoke slowly and deliberately, as if he were speaking to a child. He removed the pen from her hand and closed her leather adorned checkbook, holding his hands on top of hers to keep them in position.

Isabella snatched her hands away, unsure of the next proposal to present. The mere idea of him leaving unsettled her, and she was ready to negotiate whatever he recommended.

"I appreciate the, er, raise, I suppose, but I am not one to take funds without working for them. That's why I asked for more appointments. I do not wish to quit, if that's what you are worried about. I'm sorry for the confusion of the other night, I sincerely thought you wanted to fire me. I shouldn't have lost my temper and for that, I apologize."

Isabella's expression altered from confusion to defensive to regret. He was correct in his assessment. The dinner had gone horribly awry and all she had done was make things worse. It wasn't like her to lose her cool or to be so flustered by the man across from her. Or any man for that matter.

She had yet to figure out what made him so unique.

"I, uh, apologize as well. I understand how you could come to that conclusion; I am not usually one to hold a meeting at my place of dwelling. I just figured…" she trailed off again, not knowing what she was thinking.

Well, that's not true. Isabella did in fact have a motive. After he had departed, she had spent an entire hour pleasuring herself.

She was not successful considering she had had the opportunity to relish the real deal.

Isabella cleared her throat and started again. "Let's let bygones be bygones, shall we? I still regret to inform you that I cannot book you any additional appointments, however, if there is anything else that you need, please let me know."

Edward nodded in agreement. "I understand. So…what was so important that you had to hold a meeting at night?"

Isabella started to open her mouth, and then closed it shut. She wanted to discuss Alice Brandon, but an inkling in the back of her mind decided it ought to be best to leave it for now.

Quickly thinking, Isabella shuffled through her desk and found a BMW's pamphlet from when she had ordered her third vehicle just a year earlier. "I'm not quite sure which type of vehicle you were looking at, but the car dealership out on near the freeway is the one I use. Just ask for Cedric Diggs. He will help you look for anything you desire."

Edward stared at her in amazement. "This is what you called me over for? To show me cars? Even before I mentioned anything?"

"Well…uh yes. That's usually the first purchase my employees make when their income starts flowing in. I figured you would as well. Just go there and take a look."

"Um, okay," Edward answered in a dazed voice. It was quite incredible how she thought he would be shopping for a car, and even though he wasn't, he wouldn't refuse her generosity. BMW's were way out of his price range, but he figured he better stop by for a visit. Surely she would check up with this Cedric character. "Thanks, by the way."

"No problem. Have a good day, Mr. Cyllen," Isabella responded curtly, cutting their so called meeting short.

"Oh, yes. Of course. You too."

Edward scrambled to his feet, grabbing the pamphlet she was holding out. He reached the doorway, and before he could stop himself, the words poured out much more huskily than he would ever intend.

"You look beautiful today, Miss Isabella."

Not waiting for the opportunity to be embarrassed, he rushed out the door.

What he didn't notice was the small smile Isabella had formed across her mouth.

She reached for her phone, dialed the contact rapidly and spoke as soon as her friend's introduction was concluded.

"_Cedric, this is Isabella. I need you to do me a favor_."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Edward completed a few household errands for his mother, then elected to visit the BMW dealership to get it over and done with. He resolved to tell Isabella that he couldn't find anything he wanted, or that it the luxury car brand wasn't the one he was looking for.

His gray Volvo sputtered into the parking lot, looking entirely out of place. A few customers were walking about with salesmen, probably deciding their other fifty vehicles weren't enough.

Almost immediately he regretted his bitter train of thought. It wasn't their fault his life was in shambles. Or that his father had basically ruined any prospect of a future. No, it wasn't their fault at all.

He manually locked his doors, and walked confidently into the dealership, pretending that he had the right to be there. From outward appearances, he played the act of an interested buyer and strolled over to the receptionist's desk.

"Welcome to BMW Automotive. My name is Heidi, how may I help you?" the red-headed lady behind the counter greeted him.

"Yes. I am here to meet Mr. Diggs. Cedric Diggs."

"Oh, Edward Cyllen?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes?" he answered, confused on how she would know his name.

"Right this way, sir! Mr. Diggs is in his office," she rambled, overly excited. He followed her to an area where an overweight older gentleman with gray hair and hazel eyes was seated at his desk, talking on the phone.

She gave him directions to take a seat, as Mr. Diggs was ending his phone call.

"Is there anything I can get you? Soda? Water? A bottle of wine?" she rattled on.

"No," Edward shook his head, puzzled at her helpful demeanor. Or the fact that she was serving alcohol in case he was actually going to drive. "No, thank you."

"Very well. Mr. Diggs will be with you shortly."

Edward looked around his office, decorated with pictures of luxury cars and awards. He sighed quietly when Mr. Diggs hung up his phone.

"Ahhh, Mr. Cyllen, I presume. Very nice to meet you. I'm Cedric Diggs," he grinned, reaching out his hand. Edward returned the formalities and made his perplexity known.

"Uh, did you know I was coming?"

"Yes. Ms. De Luca called me and asked me to assist you in finding a vehicle. We have the top of the line automobiles. They are fully lined with leather interior, pre-installed televisions and MP3 players. You can also custom-"

Edward thought it would be best to stop his selling tactics before he got started. He knew how these salesmen worked. They were like sharks; they wouldn't stop until they sold something. And they only thing Edward would be able to afford was a soda that was in the vending machine across the street.

"I'm sorry to waste your time, Mr. Diggs. I was just going to look as a courtesy to Ms. Isabella. I'm not sure I can quite, ummm, afford anything here."

Mr. Diggs chuckled, his robust belly moving up and down in a jolly motion. His eyes sparkled with delight. "Did Ms. De Luca not tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"She's paying."

"WHAT?" Edward's voice couldn't have gotten louder if he had tried.

"Paying for it. Footing the bill. Shelling out the dough," he laughed. "My instructions were to let you pick out a vehicle, anything you desire, and she would be compensating. Now if you'll follow me to our showroom-"

"Woah, hold on," Edward interrupting, stopping him in his tracks. "Mr. Diggs, I'm not sure what she has told you, but I'm sure there's a mistake. I'm not purchasing anything. Nor is she. I just-"

Mr. Diggs waved his hand and chuckled. "She said you would say that. C'mon, Mr. Cyllen. Amuse me. I'm a busy man. Surely you can at least test drive one. Wouldn't hurt you to try, would it?"

Edward swallowed, knowing this was leading nowhere but downhill. Cedric was already estimating the profit he would receive. He knew the De Lucas were anything but thrifty. He had already sold the entire family most of their vehicles, and they were showy at best. Stephan De Luca had on more than one occasion asked for accessories that didn't even exist in the already made cars.

But Cedric had no problem getting an automatic coffee maker installed in his wife, Renee's SUV. No problem at all.

Edward followed Mr. Diggs out into the showroom, and Edward noted how he didn't even attempt to lead him towards the parking lot.

_No matter what he says, I am NOT buying a car here. Nor is Isabella purchasing one, either,_ Edward thought with certainty. _No way. No how._

That was one favor he couldn't pay back. He had to think of his family, first and foremost. They mattered the most.

"Ok, Mr. Cyllen," Cedric began, pointing at a burgundy coloured car. "Here we have the 335i Sedan. It gets 33mpg highway, has a six cylinder turbo engine, and rear wheel drive. It features an all leather interior, and features a sound system that can be heard on the other side of the city, if you wish."

Edward gritted his teeth, not acknowledging how enticing the car really was. "Cedric-"

"Not your fancy? Moving right along then," Mr. Diggs said, dashing to the next black coloured vehicle. "This here is the 335is Convertible. Starting at only sixty grand, it entails a 3.0 liter, inline six cylinder engine, gets 26 miles to the gallon, has satellite radio, and a powered retractable hardtop. Good for the man on the go, much like yourself."

"Cedric-" Edward attempted again.

Not one to be deterred, the salesman continued. "Not a convertible man, I see? No worries. Next up we have sport utility vehicles, my favorite. This one is a x5 Drive 35d, has a third row rear seat, has 265 horsepower, and gets from zero to sixty in just 6.9 seconds. It also has an integrated iPod system, if you are into that sort of thing."

"Cedric," Edward said once more, this time with authority. "I told you, I'm not purchasing anything. Once again, I thank you for your time. Please just tell Isabella I didn't see anything I liked. I will promise her you tried your best. Now if you'll excuse me-"

Edward failed to brush past Mr. Diggs when his arm was grabbed slightly. "Ok. I get it. I understand. You don't have the money to purchase a car, nor do you want one bought for you. I'm a man. I get the whole pride factor. You don't have to explain."

Edward looked into Cedric's eyes that were filled with sympathy and consideration. "Thank you."

"Mr. Cyllen, come with me. I want to show you something. We are more alike than you think."

Not perceiving this as possible, Edward followed him back to the front entrance of the store and then stopped in front of a closed curtain area.

Cedric pulled an old worn-out wallet out of his back pocket and opened it, showing Edward the contents.

Edward frowned. There was nothing in there. It was empty.

"I've been where you are. Young and without a dollar to my name. I had dreams, sure, but the world isn't like that, is it? You don't always get what you want. You have to fight and sacrifice. Struggle and lose. That's why I carry around my old wallet. It reminds me of how far I've come. I'm here to assure you, Edward, that a time will come when you no longer have to struggle."

Cedric was so genuine, and so honest that Edward for once felt like the man before him authentically recognized his position. He breathed a sigh of relief, and when he did Cedric led him past the curtain into a large darkened room. Edward was adjusting his eyesight as Cedric turned on the lights.

Edward gasped.

Inside the closed room stood one vehicle.

Edward had to inhale for air. He had never seen anything like it. It looked so space-age, comparable to that of which he ventured he would never gaze upon in his lifetime.

Mr. Diggs lowered his voice to a hush whisper, laying his heavy hand on Edward's shoulder. "This is the BMW i8. It's the evolution of a plug in hybrid with an electric drive system. Holding a three cylinder combustion engine, it accelerates from zero to one hundred miles per hour in under five seconds. It seats up to four people, has swing doors, or what most like to call 'suicide doors,' and is geometrically designed with aluminum drive units. This also has a built in navigational system, two eight inch touch screen displays, and even holds floating taillights which help with aerodynamics. But Edward, this is not a car."

"Huh?"

Edward snapped out of his musings and turned to face the salesman. "This, my friend, is the future."

Making no attempt to step any closer, Cedric pushed him forward, and with swift motion the doors swung in an upward motion. "Get in."

"I-I…can't…it's….I'll mess something up!" Edward stammered, battling to retreat towards a safer area.

Like outside.

"We had a deal, remember? Amuse me," he repeated, and with another urge, he goaded Edward into the driver's seat.

Too afraid to touch anything, Edward sat stiffly in the seat. Cedric leaned across, pushing the ignition on without any keys. The sports car purred to life.

"Close your eyes."

Edward gave him a cynical look before doing what he was told. "Do you feel that? You become one with the car. You feel like nothing can touch you, nothing can stop you. The world has no weight. No burdens. No sacrifices. Today is your day, Edward. Today you will no longer struggle."

With the soft murmurs of Mr. Diggs in his ear, and the smoothness of the leather on his hands, Edward felt like he was melting into another zone. This car represented everything he wanted to be, everything he had every wished for.

An image of his family soon bought him crashing back down to reality.

He ignored it for the moment, and opened his eyes to Mr. Diggs.

"So, what do you think?"

"Wow. This is really nice. I mean…beyond nice. Thank you for showing this to me. But I really must be going now."

He cautiously stepped out of the vehicle, ready for this day to be over with already.

"I can't let you do that, Mr. Cyllen. You see, my orders from Ms. De Luca were to make sure you absolutely left here with a mode of transportation. So, you can argue until you are blue in the face, or you can hurry this along and pick out a car. Now, from what you've shown me, you are a man of class. Although timid, you know what you want. Yes, I can put you in one of our standard BMW's, but you wouldn't be happy. What you need is your dream car. And that dream, is this i8. No more struggles, Edward. No more struggles."

Cedric started to leave the room, and whispered one last implication. "Oh, and by the way. She said something along the lines of '_if you don't pick out a vehicle, your ass is fired_.' But I'm sure she didn't mean it…"

O.O.O.O.O.O.

Cedric smiled greedily as he picked up the phone and dialed his customer back immediately as instructed.

"Hello? Ms. De Luca?"

"Yes. This is Mr. Diggs returning your phone call as promised. It worked. Your threat worked. He chose the BMW i8, just as you wished."

He listened a few more minutes, and signed documents as she chatted. "No, thank you ma'am. Your business is always welcome and I am more than honored to serve you and your family after all of these years."

"Yes, you too. Have a good day, Ms. De Luca. Goodbye."

Cedric rushed out of his office, locking the door behind him and yelling loudly. "Heidi! Close up early! You and I are going out tonight. Dinner is on me!"

O.O.O.O.O.O

As Edward drove down the freeway to go home, cursing and lamenting over his, or rather Isabella's purchase, several questions crossed his mind.

_How had he let this happen?_

_Did he forget the groceries in the Volvo?_

And lastly, _where in the hell was he going to hide this car?_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

After happily resigning into her bathtub, Isabella leaned back, approving of the way the vanilla scented bubbles felt on her skin. As she let the warmness of the water cleanse over her, she beamed to herself. Even though she had denied Edward additional appointments, she believed she had amended the world again. She knew without a doubt that Edward would fight her tooth and nail over the vehicle, but Cedric had surpassed her expectations. Because of her goodwill, Edward would no longer contend her on needing more customers.

Which didn't bother Isabella in the slightest. Of course she needed Edward as well, however, it was for professional and financial reasons only. And if a person were to really ask her about her intentions, they would be innocent. Sure, the sex with him was incredible. Unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

But that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

She was unwilling to acknowledge any form of butterflies that settled in her stomach when she saw him. It was sexual adrenaline, pure and simple.

Right?

_Right_, she assured herself. So yes, if she did admit, for the tiniest fraction of a second that she was a tidbit… invidious… of Edward performing his duties like he should, it was only for the reason that she enjoyed having intercourse with him.

She could at least confess that, right?

_Right_, she conceded again. So why did it trouble her that he had an appointment, tonight?

She was getting nowhere with this roller coaster of lust and jealousy. It faltered into waves that crashed her again and again. Which she didn't appreciate. Whatsoever.

Isabella drained the water out of her tub, and grasped the Egyptian cotton towel from the rack. After drying her hair and dressing in silk pyjamas, she precipitously recalled the manila file in which Jasper had completed for her earlier. She was so caught up in other matters, she had forgotten all about it. She grabbed the item from her work bag and settled herself onto her living room sofa, glass of wine in hand.

To her credit, her anxiousness did not result in the fumbling of her hands, nor did she open the folder so fast it would resemble a Christmas morning unwrapping massacre.

Isabella held the contents in her hand, shocked by what she saw.

Jasper had not given her papers or background information.

He had given her pictures.

Tons and tons of black and white photographs of Edward.

The man in the photos was not one that she knew. This Edward wore ragged jeans and unkempt plaid shirts. His hair stood out in every direction, not the organized chaos she was used to. There he was getting into his older Volvo, which she presumed he had for collector purposes. Now, she knew for a fact it was his only vehicle. The smoke blowing out the rear end demonstrated just how poor condition it really was in.

The photos also revealed Edward exiting an awful, worn-down apartment building. That couldn't be where he lived.

Perhaps he had been visiting someone.

She kept that optimistic notion until she flipped picture after picture of Edward leaving and going, along with an older frail woman that looked quite similar to him, garbed in hotel attire. Was that his mother?

She looked so… aged.

And if it were true that it was actually his mother, why was he living at home? Surely he had made enough money by now to be living by himself. She knew from his file that he lived on the other side of town, but she never thought that he didn't live alone, or that it was worse than she ever imagined.

That neighborhood, if it was the one she alleged it to be from the photographs, was hell. Occupied with the worst kinds of people. Not because they were less fortunate, no, she wasn't that narrow-minded. But anyone who would sell drugs or have children when they clearly couldn't afford them didn't deserve to be rescued or helped. They made those choices on their own.

_And so did Carlisle Cyllen_, now that she thought about it. But where was he? She didn't see him in any of the images.

Why did Edward continue to live there?

Why did he lie about wanting a vehicle when he indisputably had other financial obligations?

What was his connection to Alice Brandon?

And if Alice Brandon was indeed an acquaintance of his, why did she allow him to reside in that condition?

Why in the hell did Alice want to be a prostitute in the first place? Isabella had already established that she wasn't the destitute girl she appeared to portray.

Was she there to help Edward?

How come neither of them mentioned the other?

She had so many questions and so little answers.

But Isabella was an intelligent woman. From the photos, she came to one conclusion that she was absolutely positive of.

Edward Cyllen needed her help. And he was not going to get it whoring himself out for a scantily hundred bucks a night only several times a week.

No, he needed more.

_He needed her._


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tax agent Charlie Swan ventured the through the miniature cubicles of his agency, swearing over the small cup of coffee that had been spattered on him by the latest intern, Aaron.

_You just can't find good help these days_, he thought indignantly.

Slightly annoyed after unsuccessfully cleaning the russet stain off of his wrinkled white shirt, he sat unhappily in his swiveled chair with a huff. Charlie endorsed his signature on a few documents, entered several legal numbers into the computer and subsequently thumped his head down on his desk.

There was plenty to be exasperated about this late evening, but it was his current case that had him up to his eyeballs in paperwork.

Twilight Phone Sex Services.

Run by the prodigy daughter of Washington's most renowned fraud, Twilight had been on his watch list for quite some time.

Thus far, all of her correspondence had been lucratively verified, but as they say in his office, the numbers just didn't add up.

Charlie's supervisor, Demetri, had told him again and again to just "let it go." But what Demetri didn't fathom was that Charlie was not a man who surrendered to defeat. Like most in D.C., the De Luca family got away with murder, and everyone else just looked the other way.

But not Charlie.

He was determined to put them behind bars, even if it was at the expense of the youngest daughter. Gossip on the street was that she was making millions over the past few years as a whoremonger, and no one had dared to defy her in any form or fashion.

But there was one thing Ms. De Luca didn't account for, and that was Charlie Swan. See, on paper, her revenue was financially tallied. Every processing cost, every equipment product, and even her administrative disbursements were laid out in faultless form. The problem was not arithmetic, no, it was the sum of which her business totaled.

It was impossible for a sex phone company to accrue as much income as she did.

Impossible.

Even at the charge of $3.99 a minute couldn't accrue the massive two million dollar income a year she was claiming to generate.

"Mr. Swan?"

The skinny, young intern poked his head into Charlie's cubicle, his rampant acne bothering Charlie much more than it should.

"Yes, Aaron?" Charlie grated out.

"Can I go home now? It's getting late…" His tired, brown eyes peered at Charlie with hope.

But once again, Charlie Swan was not a man to be reckoned with. He figured you had to earn time off, and Aaron was not there yet. He needed to be molded, and then broken. That's how you endured in this business. It was more than crunching numbers, or holding tax liens on people's properties. Until Aaron had realized that factor, he was going to be in for one rocky road.

"Not so fast, boy," Charlie spoke dictatorially, causing Aaron to sigh out loud. Charlie thrust a handful of documents into his chest, triggering Aaron to fall back on the heels of his feet.

"This is the De Luca file. Find me any discrepancies, and report back to me directly."

Aaron pondered if he should tell Demetri that Charlie was forcing him to work overtime, but decided against it. He didn't want to sound like a whiny college student who wasn't up to par.

"Yes sir, will do."

Charlie nodded and as Aaron left to turn, he whispered in a hushed voice. "Oh, and don't say anything about this to Demetri. This stays between you and I, got it?"

"Yes sir," Aaron repeated and departed on his way contemplating only a single thought.

_De Luca….why does that name sound so familiar?_


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Edward sat in the back of the limousine, strumming his fingers nervously along his calf. He was sure he was making the beat of a popular song, but as always, Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"Edward, you have got to stop that. I'm an old man and you are making my blood pressure rise," he warned.

"Oops, sorry," Edward muttered, and began to hum internally instead.

Harry rolled his eyes and the divider went up.

Guess it wasn't so internal after all.

It was Thursday night and Edward had an appointment at the Four Seasons with a Ms. Bianca Manning. She was a young socialite from what he knew, so he was beyond thrilled she wasn't one of the older women who usually called in for dates. He just hoped she didn't have a toe fetish.

_Ugh_, he shivered. Edward tapped on the glass again to attract Harry's attention.

"You'll be back at ten, right?" Edward asked for reassurance. At one of the more recent engagements, Harry was more than delayed, and the elderly Ms. Betty decided upon herself that it would more prudent of their time to engage in other activities.

Like oral.

Edward had high-tailed it out of there, and hid in the lobby restroom until Harry showed up, blaming Emmett for his tardiness.

Harry chuckled. "Ten o'clock. Yeah, sure."

He didn't like the way Harry dismissed his comment, or the way he laughed.

"Oh, and your appointment is in room 2103," Harry told him quickly just as he pulled up in front of the luxurious building.

Frowning, Edward shook his head. "No, that's wrong. Rosalie said its 3114. See?" He pulled out a card with the handwritten date and time from the secretary.

"Fine," Harry said tartly. "By all means. Go to the other room and see what happens. When you get arrested for trying to grope some lady and her husband walks out of the restroom, then I'll be happy to say I told you so. 2103, Edward, 2103."

Edward planted the card back into his back pocket and waited for Harry to open his door. He did so and Edward gave a quick reminder before he entered the glass doors.

"Ten o'clock, remember?"

Harry just laughed again and ignored him completely. Grumbling to himself, he bypassed the bellhops with a nod and stuffed his hands tensely in his pockets. He didn't have the confidence like some of the others had, Jacob with his smoldering looks or Emmett with his ability to adapt to any situation. He was still the "newbie" as everyone liked to call him, and it always took some wine and deep breaths to calm him down.

_Remember your family_, Edward reasoned. _This is for them._

Not that his father would appreciate any of it, but still. Deep inside, Edward wanted his father to be proud of him, just as he was Mason. He noticed the way the corners of his mouth turned up whenever one of his brother's accomplishments were named. Edward knew his day of nobility would come as well, and until then, he would be patient. Carlisle wouldn't even remember Mason's name when Edward presented them with a new life. All of this strife and heartache would be worth it.

In the meantime, Edward would have to pay his dues. He approached the door and knocked cautiously. He stood far away enough that if needed, he could make a quick get-away. Eric and Jasper had trained all of the employees what to do in case there were ever a police setup.

Step One: Run.

Step Two: Find hiding spot.

Step Three: Call Harry.

Good plan in theory, he supposed, until the dogs came after him, chewing him to bits from his knee caps down. He also noted how there was no step four for panicking.

Let's just say Edward had endured more than one nightmare about this exact event. None of them ended well.

"Come in," the sultry voice echoed out, and Edward had been too lost in his musings to notice the door was slightly opened.

He strolled in, not bothering to marvel at the now familiar hotel decorum. They all looked the same. He didn't see Bianca anywhere, figuring she was probably in the bathroom. He hesitated on sitting down. Each customer expected something different from him, and so he remained standing in front of the bed for the time being.

Edward lowered his gaze to the items lying on top of the exclusive hotel bedding. On top was a black silk scarf and a matching pair of boxers.

_So, she was one of them_, he thought with a touch of regret.

He examined the room, looking for such sexual toys such as whips and chains. It was just his luck to have the crazy customers. He had no intention of getting beaten to a pulp just for the sake of bondage acts. Planning a quick getaway in his head, he vowed to not sacrifice his body to the point of no return. No matter what this Bianca proposed, he always had the right to say no.

Edward shook his head and muttered to himself to suck it up and stop being a scared punk. This was not the time to start acting like a female teenager. He could do this.

Or at least that's what he told himself as he got dressed. He stripped off his clothes and put on the boxers, plopping down on the bed. Unsure of whether to lie down or not, he stayed in an upright position and tied the scarf around his eyes.

The air suddenly changed as sweet perfume penatrated his nostrils.

Edward braced himself as he heard the soft click of footsteps from the woman approaching him. It was awkward he could not see what she looked like, but in the end it did not matter. His sessions were all a blur anyhow. He had to shut off any emotional connection to who he was as a person, and the job he had to do.

She approached him cautiously, standing so closely that he could hear her heartbeat. Her soft hands lifted his own, and he silently obeyed as she rested them on her breasts. He squeezed them lightly, not wanting to acknowledge how soft and full they felt even in the constricted lingerie he felt with his fingertips.

"Lie down," she ordered in a whispered voice, and he slowly obeyed, scooting backwards on the bed and propping his head upon the pillow. He sensed her climbing overtop of him, trailing her thin fingers along his body, sending a tingling to his core. The tresses of her hair tickled him along his chest as she played with his heated skin, and Edward was so overwhelmed by her scent, he froze ridgidly.

"I can't."

Any vague hope he had of ever leaving the ghetto was broken in this one moment. Not even being able to see her, he could feel the anger radiating off of her before their sex even began. It was ridiculously frightening what halted his movements and how vulnerable he was in the hands of another woman. The problem was not her. Even without his eyesight, he knew she was most likely absolutely beautiful, the way her curves fit around his torso.

Edward's problem was not that Bianca wasn't attractive, or that she didn't have the sexual prowess of a lion in heat.

His problem was that she wasn't _her_.

Ever since that first night in the hotel room, and the second time in the office, Edward couldn't get Isabella off of his mind. His affection for her had grown even more since she had gone out of her way to purchase him a vehicle. And here he was, with another woman on top of him, and he couldn't even perform.

And Bianca's sweet perfume was like a noose hanging above his head, threatening him of Isabella's presence.

He didn't know how he was going to get out of this, and he was surely going to hear about this later, but as for now, he would follow his heart.

"I am terribly sorry, but I can't," he repeated, and in one swift motion, he tore the silk scarf off from his eyes and prepared to face the fury of his customer.

However, he was not ready for the image that flashed before him.

Edward drew in his breath sharply.

He pushed the woman off of his lap and scuttled toward the headrest like a scared child. How absurd he must have looked, but no one could blame him for his ludicrous behavior. It was not his fault the way his hands curled around the bedsheets, or how he was sure his eyesight was deciphering his environment wrong.

"Isabella?" he choked out.

He blinked again, and sure enough, there she was. Isabella's hands were on her hips, and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"You just had to go and ruin this, didn't you?" she bade him harshly.

"Wha-what are you doing here?" he managed to stutter.

For an instant, sheer fury flashed her face, distorting her into a person unrecognizable. His throat closed on its own, unaware of the oxygen he needed to live.

"Enough games, Edward. Lie back down," she ordered. As if she needed to give no reasonable explanation for her actions.

As if she did not care.

"No..." he squeaked out. Not until she justified herself, or vindicated her behavior.

"Have you not noticed my regard for you? After all I have done for you?" she questioned in a low, sultry voice. "Is seems that you do, and yet, you refuse to return the favor."

Edward looked frantically around the room, as if someone would come to his rescue, and explain what the hell was going on. What was she talking about?

He had the urge to run, to catch his breath so that he could think, just think for a clear moment. Isabella's dark solemn gaze swept over his body and Edward had the sinking feeling he would not be leaving here a whole man. She was breaking him, bit by bit.

"Twenty grand Edward," she proposed, arching her eyebrow.

Surely she had lost her mind. That had to be it. To replace Bianca-who knew where that poor woman was anyways- and to boss him around as if he had no sense of his own.

"Thirty grand," she pressed again, and Edward started to lift his body off of the bed. He searched for the clothes he came in with, and thought fondly of the days when life was much simpler. He didn't have deranged supervisors trying to buy him out, or treat him like an object.

"Fifty grand."

Edward halted in his tracks and closed his eyes.

In his pause, he truly felt what some in society saw him as.

_A whore._

He shouldn't have stopped. He shouldn't have comptemplated how much money that was, or what he could purchase. He shouldn't have seen dream homes in the suburbs or the grateful smile that flashed across his mother's face.

"Fifty grand. Everyday. One week. You'll be mine to use as I please. Mine to corrupt. Mine to consume. Until I've been fucked raw."

Edward prayed for deliverance, that someday, somehow, his sins would be forgiven. But right now, he was trapped, frozen in circumstances. He just hoped his deliverance wouldn't come in the form of a manipulative boss named De Luca.

"Lie down."

_And this time, the command came from him._


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Why had she done such a foolish, foolish thing?

Isabella should have known better. Instead, she kept herself engaged in a barter that was going to end her up shit's creek. She could hear the bitter laughter of her brother in the background, mocking her decisions as she lingered in a dangerous place of no return. As soon as Edward had muttered the words of refusal to whom he thought was Bianca Manning, she should have departed, leaving him confused and bewildered. He would have been none the wiser.

But she wanted him.

And obviously he wanted her.

No, he wanted the money. That's the only reason he stayed.

So be it. He would earn his pay and they would both walk away happy. If that was at all possible.

Without thinking, she did as she were told and felt her body sink into the bed. Edward leaned over her, and she could feel his heat radiating like a candle's flicker.

"Are you ready?" he whispered into her ear.

Isabella almost chuckled to herself. "I am no virgin, Edward, as you surely know. Of course I'm ready."

But her nerves knew no such thing. His whispered breath tingled her earlobes, causing her to shiver.

Despite this being her bargain, she desperately wanted to move away. She kept her groundings, and dared herself to remain still.

"No, not for tonight," he breathed huskily. He moved her arms above her head, and she felt the boldness of his gestures in the way his hard body leaned onto hers. There was no softness anywhere, just the carnal understanding of the stiff muscle that lingered between her thighs.

"Are you ready_ for me_?" he explained, thrusting slightly in her place that was already moistened and heated. "Are you willing to let me have all of you?"

Now exposed, he blew sweet gasps of air behind her ear and onto her collarbone. He held her securely in place, and she was in peril to his manuevering lips. Isabella could have stopped him, claiming to be fearful of her position, but her body reacted unpeculiarly. She ached in the most errageouness of places and her skin prickled in anticipation.

"Are you ready,_ Isabella_?"

Between the groaning of her name and the wetness of his tongue on her neck, she jumped what felt like ten feet into the air. Yet she had only bucked against his own body. She gasped as his mouth moved in circles, nipping and licking her sensitive places. The tremors that shook through her were both icy and hot.

The opposing temperatures made her come to her senses.

"Have all of me?" she asked, tugging free from his grasp and pushing against his chest. "You can never have all of me, Edward Cyllen! And then what will I have left? No business to call my own? A father who begs of me to have an inheritance like a delicate child? Fortune in which I do not supply others with a decent living? That is not honor, Edward! That is not my legacy! I will lose everything if I so readily give you all of me. And that will never be so!"

Time spun in ecplises between them, and she waited breathlessly for his reaction. Isabella expected him to leave, as she had gone off the deep end when he was clearly just talking about sex. She knew that now, but it was too late. The boomerang of her words repelled back onto her, and she waited to be knocked off her pedastool.

Rather than start an arguement, Edward pushed Isabella back onto the bed. She had barely blinked, and in an instant, his boxers were gone and her legs were spread openly. Her heels dug into the restraining mattress as he aligned his body with hers. Pulling her lingerie roughly over her head, he penetrated into her, surpassing her moment to react.

"Is that what you think?" he spat bitterly, filling her without moving.

"That I want your money?"

"That I want your fancy cars?"

"That I want your business?"

Her lingerie remained bunched up on the sheets as she refused to answer him. His green orbs shot bullets of anger and passion.

Edward grabbed a handful of her hair, and thrust his cock hard into her, causing her to cry out. Isabella knew it was her body and that she was here in this moment, but she did not recognize herself or him. He leaned forward and plunged into her again.

"I don't want your money," he whispered, pounding into her roughly.

"You can have your car," he spoke through clenched teeth, impaling her deeper.

"And I certainly do not want your business," he ended, driving her body into the sheets.

Isabella could not move as he lifted up her head to meet his own. She heard nothing but truth leave his lips, and she surrendered her legs to wrap entangled around his. She asked the question she should not dare to ask, but also did not regret to mention.

"Then what do you want?"

She noticed his confused expression, the way his mouth opened and shut again. It was as if he wanted to say something...anything, but was held still by whatever demon was warring inside his head.

"Just this," he finally answered, and stroked his way in until she arched herself upwards to meet his thrusts. His arm slid beneath her back, drawing her nearer, but she did not feel his caresses. Her swollen breasts bounced in uncontrollable fashion. The screams she let out floated on euphoric clouds, tormenting her in ways that were nowhere near heavenly.

Edward covered her mouth with his hand, preventing her pleas for more. He grinded into her, burying himself into much more than her slick folds. He was also giving the one gift she refused to offer.

Himself.

He removed his palm from her mouth and placed it on her lower lips, pressing down onto her throbbing bud. Isabella thrashed from side to side, and he paced himself to her racing was too overwhelming, the circular motion of his fingers and his posession of her body, that caused her midsection to tighten.

Isabella bit his arm as pleasure crashed over her. Her spasms contracted every muscle and created shaking sensations that she could not control. Edward hardened and thickened, and she knew in that instant he was ready to reach his own peak. He suckled on her nipple and let out a gutteral groan as he pushed into her one last time and held his place.

Too incompetant to move a single fiber of his being, he crashed to her side, drained and exhausted.

Edward, unthinking in his motions, gathered her closer to his side.

Fatigue claimed Isabella, and she closed her eyes as well.

Before succumbing to sleep, she wondered if somehow the details of their arrangement had gotten jumbled.

_It seemed as if he were the one consuming her._


	17. Chapter 16

**Readers- You fill my soul with joy. The kind that fills with moisture in inappropiate places, but joy nevertheless...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16:<strong>

"Housekeeping! I've arrived with breakfast!"

Isabella answered the door to only a tired, but cheerful voice. Bent behind a cart filled with platters and coverings was a female form.

"Ugh, these darn wheels. Always getting stuck-" the voice stopped abruptly when she discovered the door was open.

"Oh, forgive me!" The woman behind the apology stood up, and Isabella released her towel into a pool of material at her feet.

_It couldn't be._

Her immediate action was not of that to cover her nudity, but instead, to conceal the astonishment that exposed her face.

Emerald eyes which mirrored the current man showering in the bathroom radiated back at her.

_Edward's mother_. She would recognize those jade-coloured orbs anywhere. But here, in the present, they shone much brighter than the black and white photos which Jasper had given her.

"Dear! Let me get that!" The housekeeper fumbled for Isabella's towel, holding it open for Isabella to grasp. She did just that, only in slow motion, immovable in a stupor of her musings.

"Th-thank you," Isabella managed to sputter out. Try as she might, Isabella could do nothing further than swathe the Egyptian cotton around her nude body and endure their silence.

"Ma'am? Would you like for me to come back at a later time?"

"NO!" Isabella shouted much too loudly. "I mean, no. Now is fine."

"Ok, then. I will just set the food up for you and be on my way," the older woman suggested. Isabella stepped to the side as the wobbly cart strolled its way past her.

"Once again, I'm sorry to startle you. I'm Esme by the way. Its my first day here and I'm not used to the fancy equipment they have. I used to work at the old Bed and Breakfast, you know, the one out on Kingsley Street, but this place needed additional help. My manager was nice enough to recommend me, and the pay is good, but I've been working all night, and my feet are hurtin' some kinda bad, and…" Esme trailed off, ashamed of her babbling. "I've done it again. I'm sorry ma'am. If you wish to let management know you want a different housekeeper, I will not be offended in the slightest. Just let me spread out your food first."

Esme, genuinely mortified at her conduct, tried her best to appease the situation. Her first day and she was already making mistakes. With quickened precision, she laid out the gourmet feast in two settings, pouring glasses of juice and setting out sugar cubes for coffee. Each utensil was perfectly aligned with the plates, and when she stood back to admire her work, she brushed her hands against her grey uniform.

"Will that be all?" Esme asked, giving her best smile. It was the least she could do before she was demoted to dishwasher or fired.

"No…no, that is it. Thank you," Isabella answered graciously. She allowed Esme to nearly exit the room before she blocked her path.

"Um, Mrs. Cyllen?" she asked hesitantly.

A slip of the tongue was all it took. Isabella realized her blunder before the saliva could even dry on her lip.

"How do you know my last name?" Esme inquired, raising an eyebrow.

If the floor could consume her whole, Isabella would gladly accept it. This encounter could not possibly get any worse.

_No, wait_. Isabella thought dreadfully. _It could. Edward could walk out at any moment._

Fighting for control of her bearings, Isabella planned on putting an end to this disastrous engagement. She could not possibly dream of a plausible reason as to why she would know Esme's last name, but the woman put her out of her misery.

"Don't worry. I'm sure everyone in this city knows I'm a Cyllen. You can't escape who you are," she uttered sorrowfully. Esme knew all to well the pitfalls of being the wife to a convict. She had been ridiculed beyond anything she had ever imagined, but it was her responsibility to become more than what others thought of her.

"But, what is it you wanted to ask me dear?"

What _did _Isabella want to ask of her? Surely there had to be a reason. But inwardly, Isabella just craved more of her company. She desired to know anything and everything about her, as well as her son.

However, dreams of conversations with the enemy were deceiving nightmares. Gallivanting with the son was one matter she could explain away for financial gain. But the mother? It was a catastrophe waiting to happen. So Isabella tightened the towel around her.

"Do you know what time the room will be cleaned?"

Esme's soft laughter rang through the space, pulsating on every wall. "Noon dear. I will be back then. If you are not available, feel free to leave a list of any extra requests and I shall see to it, then. Have a good day ma'am."

And on that note, Isabella shut the door as a dripping wet Edward came out of the bathroom, a low-slung towel the only barrier between her and the promised land. As much as she would like to ravish his body for all he was worth, her stomach had other ideas. That, and the meeting with his mother was still unsettling on her nerves.

"Was that housekeeping?" Edward glanced around and answered his own question. "Oooh, food. I am starving!"

Isabella could not help the smile that crossed her face at his child-like behavior. Edward minded his manners and pulled her chair out first, then sat across from her. It didn't help the warmth between her legs as Edward sat bare-chested, spreading butter on his toast.

"Are you done?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Done?" She was confounded by his question. She had yet to even eat, much less take a sip of orange juice.

"Staring at my body like a piece of meat. Are you done?" His voice had an edge of abrasiveness, prickling her in all of the wrong areas.

Instead of answering, Isabella dipped her finger into the strawberry jam, and reached across the table, wiping it on his collarbone.

"Done?" she repeated, making her way onto his lap.

"Not even close."

_O.O.O.O.O.O_

It was an hour later that Harry called Isabella's phone alerting her of his arrival. She brushed her skirt down just as Edward was tying his shoes. She tried her best not to gaze at his elongated fingers.

_Her nipples, a dark pink and hardened at the sight._

_His gaze, traveling from each breasts to the other._

_Her tongue deliberately and methodically licking the jam from his neck._

_His groan, as his fingers slid between her folds, testing the smoothness of her skin._

_Her mouth. On him. His length. Licking. Sucking. Bobbing. _

_He was close to explosion._

_She was tempted for more. _

_His erection, her bounce._

_Her grind, his thrusts._

_Each touch, each taste, each scream._

_Every buck and flick and clench and moan…._

_It ended frantically. Food everywhere. Hearts beating too fast for its pace. Voices shaky. Legs wobbly._

_Explosions intensified._

Isabella cleared her throat, and grabbed her clutch with her phone. "Meet you downstairs?"

"Um, sure." Edward answered timorously. He had yet to regain his bearings, and wondered how this day was going to go. Instead, he rushed out the door, leaving Isabella to finish getting decent and met a laughing Harry outside.

"Sleep well?" he joked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Edward jabbed back, and slid into the seat. He waited patiently for Isabella to enter the vehicle, scooting to the side to make room for her luscious legs.

After a long ten minutes, they were on their way. Isabella made sure Edward kept quiet about their arrangement, and they both agreed silence was best. No need for another Emmett Debacle Part Two.

As Harry pulled into the front entrance of their building, Edward twisted his head at a woman entering the doors who looked noticeably familiar. Isabella, on the other hand, clutched her purse tighter, aware of the now empty contents.

Esme Cyllen pushed her cleaning cart down the hotel's hallway grateful for a new job.

Deciding she should start cleaning the rooms early, and hoping she wasn't invading anyone's privacy, she proceeded to knock then opened the door to room 2103.

Esme Cyllen was astonished at the gift of three hundred dollar bills that was enclosed into an envelope with her name on it.

But not as shocked as what she found on the floor next to a bottle of wine, a garter belt…

_And a business card. _


	18. Chapter 17

**FF hates me. You know this, I know this, Carlisle Cyllen and his bottle of whiskey knows this… Here you are, Chapter 17, or Chapter 18 if you count the Prologue. *sticks tongue out at FF and their meddling ways* **

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

"Carlisle. Carlisle!"

The former treasurer's assistant answered the door drunkenly, half aware of the male voice in the hallway piercing his brain like a permanent tattoo.

He pressed his cigarette against the wall, ceasing the lit cherry. "Whaddya want?"

"Fucking hell, C. Lay off the whiskey for one damn hour, will you?" the man muttered sarcastically. Here he was, taking valuable moments out of his day to help a friend, only to deal with a drunk.

He didn't have time for this shit.

"Carlisle? You got three seconds to sober the fuck up, or else I'm dragging your sorry ass to the nearest station. One…Two…"

As if the alcohol had never filtered his system, Carlisle looked at the tall, thin figure and wiped his mouth of the remaining liquid. "What is it?"

The man, tailored in a pin-striped suit, brushed past him, peering at the disgusting circumstances his old comrade had been subjected to. Carlisle didn't look any better, a full grown beard covering his once handsome face, and clad only in boxers and a dirty t-shirt.

"That's what I thought. You want in or out?"

It was too early for Carlisle to decipher any type of puzzles or make sense of any riddles. He shut the door behind them, and plopped onto the couch. "In or out?"

"In. Or. Out?" the man repeated. "That's all I'm giving you until you say yes. But to help you make a decision, let's just say, that within a month, your ass can buy all the fucking alcohol you could ever dream of."

In or Out.

_Jack Daniels._

In or Out.

_Johnny Walker._

"In," Carlisle resigned. He was no fool. The roof of his mouth salivated at the thirst of an abundance of his favourite drinks.

"My boy!" he said with a laugh, pounding Carlisle on the back. The lash caused Carlisle to cough, for he was not used to such harsh physical contact. The man rolled his eyes, but fretted not, because Carlisle Cyllen was well on his way to a new, and better life.

"So…how are we getting any money?" Carlisle asked, now intrigued by the new proposition. He was getting excited, his sleeplessness and troubles melting away by the second.

"Not so fast, Carlisle. One step at a time. But here's the plan…."

Carlisle listened hard, and intently. Each sentence, every idea, had Carlisle smiling like he hadn't in years. His expression changed, the light in his eyes brightening. Hope which had drained from him years ago, filled him like no alcohol ever could.

"And this will work?" Carlisle questioned. "I get to settle the score _and _a big payday?"

His friend chuckled, a sly grin plastered on his face. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

Carlisle did his best not to punch the fabric of the innocent sofa.

"Ok, sure, but there was nothing I could do about that. You got busted red-handed. But this…this will work. You must have not met her yet."

Carlisle frowned, attempting to muster up an old memory. "I remember her, but she was a child back then…"

"Well, she's all grown up and a feisty one, I might add. By the time we are through, the De Lucas will be history and you will own the toilet Stephen shits in. You have my word."

He was an arrogant, conniving son of a bitch, but useful and always had his back. Just the thought of bringing the De Luca family down had his hands tingling, and it wasn't from the whiskey.

Carlisle walked to the door, and shook his friends hand. Tomorrow their plan would begin full-force, but today, today Carlisle would celebrate.

"Wait," Carlisle paused, frowning at the sudden thought that crossed his mind. "What's in it for you?"

"I get twenty-five percent, C. But you won't even miss it. Just focus on the treasure at the end of the fucking rainbow. Be there nine a.m., sharp. That means not drunk," the older man warned.

"I hear ya, Brandon," Carlisle muttered, opening the door.

"Oh, we go by last names now?" Aro laughed again, slugging Carlisle once more. "Just don't call my daughter that. She'd twist your balls before you could blink."

"Alicia, I got it."

"Right. Or by her nickname. Kids and their damn imagination."

Carlisle understood, missing his favorite son, Mason, or Mace. He winced at the memory of his boy fighting a war for the country who betrayed him, and settled on better thoughts.

"Nine a.m. At the old warehouse near the train station."

"See? I knew you'd figure it out!" Aro chuckled at his friend's expense.

"Dumbass," Carlisle grumbled, and shut the door in his face.

But inside, he was smiling with delight.

One month, and his life would change.

One month.

Carlisle just prayed the little girl who once ran around in pigtails could pull off this sophisticated scheme.

_Carlisle Cyllen's future of revenge and fortune now lied in the hands of Alicia "Alice" Brandon. _

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><p><strong>AN: Say whatttt? I'm twisting your asses around like a roller coaster. In or Out, readers? In. Or. Out?**


	19. Chapter 18

**You may or may not want to read the next two chapters in a public place. Just sayin'…**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

It took his breath away.

The feeling was relentless, the way it captured his heart and squeezed it into a shroud of tension.

_This can't be happening. _

But it was. Oh, it was.

"Edward, what are you doing? Move out of-"

Isabella's body had bumped into the back of Edward's frame, startling her at the door of the conference room. Whoever said his body wasn't molded like a Greek statue was a liar, but right now, it was not meant to be positive characteristic.

She could feel the fear radiate off of him, his presence becoming colder and more ruthless as she watched his teeth grit.

"Edward!" The squeaky voice shouted, jumping up to give him a hug.

_Shit_. Isabella mentally face palmed herself.

Edward's source of anger and confusion had come from Alice Brandon, the new whore in which Isabella had "forgotten" to mention.

His instinct was to run. Turn around, take the long flight into the elevator back to the level floor, and chase Harry down the street to take him home.

His world was spinning around him. Work was no longer a safe place to be. Not with Alice here. Not with her combining both his career and his personal life into a vicious stew, seasoned with regret and failure.

Isabella tugged Edward on his collared shirt. He turned around, his expression full of dismay.

Everything in her eyes told him the tale of her deceit.

"You knew!" he growled hastily. "You knew she would be here!"

"Edward, I-" her apologies were null and void, filled with the consequences of her actions.

"How could you? She…she…" he stumbled over his words, unable to give her a reasonable explanation.

He didn't know who he was angrier with. Isabella for her deception, or Alice for hers. She didn't need this fucking job. She didn't have mouths to feed, or worry about bills that needed to be paid.

"What are you doing here, Alice?" Edward seethed, his jaw taut.

"We're work buddies now!" Alice squealed excitingly.

"But why?"

"I need the extra cash. These tits aren't going to pay for themselves, you know," she clarified with a shrug.

Everyone else in the conference room was already seated, curiously watching their conversation unfold like an interesting soap opera.

Edward would deal with Alice another time, but right now, Isabella was on his radar. He grabbed her hastily by the arm, tugging her into the nearest room.

He slammed the door shut, only the glow of the copier illuminating the dark, small area.

"Is this how you conduct your business? Letting rich little college girls become your whore? Did you not notice she already has almost as much money as you? And why didn't you tell me? You must have known we knew each other!" Edward's sardonic bite gripped Isabella tightly. He had never been so callous with her.

"I did. I knew from your employee file, but I just wanted to-"

"I am NOT your charity case! You do not owe me anything! Is this what this week is about? You paying me extra to 'help me out?' I don't need your money, Isabella. What I need from you is to get her out of here. Do you know what will happen if my family finds out I'm whoring myself out? If the public or media finds out? The Cyllen family will be done for! And we have suffered enough!" Edward's anger was rising to new heights, each staircase moving towards bitter memories of hurt.

"You listen here, I have helped you because yes, you do need me!" she insisted. "You need to swallow your fucking pride and be grateful you have people who want to help. Instead, you just push me away. You want Alice gone, fine. She's gone. I never meant for this to interfere with your private life- it never even crossed my mind. But don't you stand here and tell me you don't need me. You'd be lying and we both know it!"

Their eyes locked together, the acid practically pouring out of their sockets. Isabella was irritated at Edward's overreaction, and Edward was livid at her lack of understanding.

Isabella took a step back from Edward's fuming gaze, accidentally hitting a button on the copier. She gasped in shock, her mouth gaping slightly opened, hoping she didn't ruin anything on the expensive machine.

The vivid flush of Isabella's face caused Edward's cock to pulse, and the twinge of anger he felt towards her darkened into sexual tension.

He crashed his lips against hers, and the whistle of her breath escaped just in time. This was their only means of communication; for they could never hold a decent conversation on their own.

Instead, her pussy heated to the temperature of the hot copier machine, and Edward thrust his hips against her lower body. She could no longer fight the will within her, no longer relinquish the stronghold he had on her core.

Their hands and mouth fought against gravity, the air within the room dampened by the dew of their frenzied passion.

Edward lifted up the top latch of the copier, revealing the clear glass. Elevating Isabella by her waist, he perched her on the device, his elbow pushing several buttons in his fervor to taste every inch of her.

Together, their clothes were shed, only the rough sounds of their labored breathing combating the sheets of copies that printed to their right side.

The abyss of Isabella's salvation fell beneath her feet, as their waists met.

It was not here, not in his arms, not when his body was pushed against hers so securely that she could not breathe.

There was no redemption lurking in his aroma of sweat and lust.

She could not be saved.

But death? It would come in many forms. It was only when her mouth reached his cock that she discovered heaven did not exist.

_Welcome to my sexual purgatory, _she thought.

"You can't keep doing this to me," Edward snarled under the layer of lust that consumed him. He pulled her mouth off with a swiftness neither one prepared for.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," Isabella retorted, but neither of them stopped their movements. His fingertips drowned in her waves of hair, pulling and tugging as his teeth nipped her collarbone. The moans that she whimpered made his cock throb.

He aligned himself upward, so that their bodies would meet, but Isabella pressed her hands against his chest.

"Lick it," she demanded.

"Lick the pussy that owns you."

"Damn it, woman," Edward groaned, complying by spreading her legs apart onto his shoulders. His tongue penetrated her wet heat, as he palmed the flesh of her ass.

It took all of Isabella's resolve not to scream out, as he drank of her dripping pussy. She writhed under the plunge of his tongue. He suctioned the clit of her sex, circling around it, then repeating his motions until the rigid bundle of tension lit her like a live wire. He teased her relentlessly, circling her aching center with the tiny flicks of his tongue.

Tossing her head back, so that the locks of hair edged the machine, she bucked her hips. Edward claimed her body, inserting two fingers inside as she exploded around him with a trembling cry.

He refused to move, licking every drop of her sweet release and placed a tender kiss between her folds.

She had yet to have a single moment of reprieve, but it was her own body who denied it to herself. Grasping Edward's hair between her fingers, she lifted his torso, staring at his naked muscles and physical splendor. His cock stood erect, practically demanding her attention.

She held onto his shoulders with her legs still upright in the air. Their mouths collided once more; fantasy reflecting reality, desire emulating passion. Tongues battled for dominance, entrapping one another from movement.

Supporting both of their weight, Edward steered his cock into her wet channel, breaching the layer of exasperation and fury.

"Please." It was the only request she dared to beg, and she sucked in a breath as he drove into her, rocking forward inch by inch. Every time with her was like invading new territory, the muscles of her sex wrapping around him, squeezing him like no other.

A shudder raced through her backbone, and Isabella glanced down at the merging of their core. Edward continued to plunge his long length into her walls, attempting to get rid of the erotic torture she had on his sanity.

His arm muscles rippled as he pumped into her, her fingernails digging into his sweaty flesh.

"Take it," he ordered in a rough voice. Her bare breasts heaved and he grasped her ass tighter. Using the angle for leverage, he surged forward, the machine constantly beeping and soon, darkened papers were floating to the ground.

Isabella rolled her hips to meet his, arching her curves as he bended her to his will. His pelvis rubbed against her clit, repeating a torturous grind.

She panted, and when she grabbed his hair harder, he fucked her until the machine rocked against the wall. Copies of their rendezvous hovered around them like snowfall. They seared their ending with a smoldering kiss, and her walls contracted around his cock.

He couldn't even apologize for the way he came into her, his own orgasm faintly heard as they nestled into each other's shoulders.

_Neither party even heard the panting of the individual next door._

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><p><strong>*yells into microphone and taps it loudly* Helllooooo, are you horny lil readers still with me? <strong>


	20. Chapter 19

**It's okay to hate Rosalie. Most of us do… **

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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

Alice had disappeared from the impatient horde of employees in the conference room long ago.

No one noticed her slipping into the janitor's closet, adjacent to a darkened copier room.

No one heard the sounds of passion, the muffled screams, the smacks of flesh pounding together.

No one, but her, that is.

She leaned against the wall, almost knocking a broom over and closed her eyes.

_So close_, she breathed heavily, rubbing her palm against her clitoris.

Her own fingers curled when a flood of light startled her.

Rosalie, Twilight's secretary with whom Alice had only introduced herself to once, slipped into the room unnoticed.

Alice didn't even have time to slip her skirt down.

Rosalie didn't ask her too, either.

Alice shivered, and Rosalie's breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "Don't stop."

Alice was still too shocked to move, but instead Rosalie strode forward, her dark frames highlighting her beautiful face. She pressed Alice's hands back into her heat.

"Please don't stop," she begged.

Rosalie unbuttoned Alice's shirt slowly, revealing a full set of breasts like an offering. She kissed the side of Alice's neck, licking just the tip of her earlobe.

Alice moaned beneath her, and their hands fondled each other, thin materials of lingerie being shed during their exploration.

Rosalie breathed in the scent of the woman before her, her blonde curls cascading around her shoulders. She fell to her knees, parting Alice's soaked folds, devoting to taste her sweet fruit.

With a tender tongue, she flicked Alice's bud side to side, causing a sensual sensation. Both women gasped, and Rosalie teased her just enough before rising to her feet.

"Did you enjoy my tongue?" she asked, flirtatiously.

Alice nodded. "Not your first time, I presume."

Rosalie shrugged. She had always been Miss Isabella's play toy, a means in which she could use to relieve a stressful day. And Rosalie hadn't minded. In this economy, a job was a job.

She was always fascinated by the female body, but there was a certain male employee which kept her questioning which sex she truly desired.

As for now, she treasured the goddess in front of her, cupping Alice's breasts with both hands. She greedily suckled on one of them, then used one hand to probe Alice's folds.

Their bare bodies pressed against one another, and Rosalie tugged on one nipple with her teeth, rounding a pattern over Alice's bud. It made her brunette counterpart moan, shivering and trembling with ecstasy.

With her thighs spreading wider, and a single drip of juice pouring down her legs, Alice orgasmed as Rosalie worked her fingers rhythmically with her mouth. A thread of curses flooded from her delicate mouth as she pleaded to return the favor.

Alice dropped to her knees, lifting the blonde woman's legs over her shoulder. She avariciously tasted her lips, moaning at the sight of the pink, wet center.

Rosalie arched her back, motioning her hips forward for more. But Alice was a tease, she could sense it already. She ran her fingers through the dark locks, coaxing her for further pleasure.

Alice pushed in a single digit, followed by another into the tight bare pussy of Rosalie. Her cries sent her to new dimensions, and Alice's hand was drenched to the knuckles. She felt the deep walls contracting, begging for an eager tongue.

The beautiful blonde grabbed her own breasts, rolling her sensitive nipples in a rounded motion, each bud glistening from her saliva. Alice thrust her fingers repeatedly, whilst her tongue savored Rosalie's pussy.

It was delicious, the act of forbidden pleasure being given as they both heard the final groans of the couple next door.

Rosalie shuddered, riding out her wave in ripples. They sighed simultaneously, their dampened thighs sticking together as Alice stood up for a lip locking kiss. They kissed each other softly, the way lovers would.

As soon as both females were dressed, their heard a door open and close next to them.

The blue eyed blonde rolled her eyes at Alice, signifying her lack of concern for their boss.

That's when she knew.

She had a partner.

Alice pulled Rosalie close, so closely Rosalie could feel her breath sing against her ear. She leaned over Rosalie's body, one hand against the wall, their breasts pushing against the other.

"_Rosalie, I have a proposition for you…"_

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><p><strong>OK, enough porn. You guys are just getting greedy. More plot next weekend on what the hell Alice is up to.<strong>

**And maybe more lemons. I have no shame…**


	21. Chapter 20

**PICTURES ARE UP ON BLOG! FINALLY! (CLICK ON '_PIX FOR FICS 2012'_ TAB) xquisiteprodigy . blogspot . com**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

It wasn't until Isabella hastily canceled the company meeting and sat down in her office chair that she verbally assaulted herself.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

She was the one who agreed to pay Edward for sex. It was her own fault she had hired Alice against her better judgement, and now he was probably insulting her all the way to the bank. And to make matters worse, the copier room now reeked of bodily fluids from their impromptu romp.

In the depths of her mind, she could hear her father's voice now- _What were you thinking?_

Isabella would stand tall, shoulders upright, and answer confidently, _Well, Papa. Its simple. Not only do I run an illegal prostitution ring, I seem to have fallen in love with one of my employees. Then, I hired a close friend of his without telling him. Surely, that wasn't idiotic enough, so I bribed him for a week of banging between the sheets, and that is where I met his poor mother. Half-nude and mumbling like a moron. _

_Is that all?_ he would say sarcastically.

_Not quite_, she would reply. _His father is the one who testified against you in the embezzlement trial and tried to get you life in prison. Daughter of the Year, am I not?_

Yes, that endearing conversation would go over well.

Edward Cyllen was complicating her life in ways she never imagined. On the outside, she was a strong, confident, no-holds-bar kind of woman. Inside, she was fighting emotional demons that were threatening to break through her delicate facade.

A timid knock on the door caused Isabella to push her feelings aside as Emmett walked in apologetically.

"BB?" he asked cautiously as he noticed her grim expression. "You okay?"

Her best friend walked over and kneeled in front of her, rubbing her knee in a gentle manner.

"I'm fine," she lied. The last thing she needed was to pour her heart out like some sort of pathetic loser. She quickly changed the subject. "What do you need?"

"Oh...uh, well Rosalie wasn't at her desk and the phone kept ringing so I took a message. You have a phone call from a Mr. Charlie Swan. He says its urgent and that you need to call him back immediately."

Em rose to his feet and laid a decorative Post-It note with the information on her desk.

Isabella looked at the paper confusingly, the name ringing an unfamiliar bell. "Did he say what he needed?"

Shaking his head, Em shrugged. "No, but he didn't sound like a customer if that's what you mean."

Already dealing with enough stress and regretting for even coming in this morning, Isabella sighed heavily. "Ok, got it. Thanks."

Hesitant to leave, Em laid a kiss on Isabella's forehead before turning away. He knew whatever was going on, she would straighten it out for herself. If she ever needed him, she knew he would be there without fail.

Besides sulking her life away, Isabella had nothing more to do than return to matters at hand. She tucked her emotional baggage away and vowed to deal with it later. After all, she had a business to run. A day wasted was money wasted.

Picking up the phone on her desk, she tentatively dialed the number on the small sheet of paper as it rang three times without an answer. She was about to hang up when a deep male voice responded.

"Internal Revenue Services. Charlie Swan speaking, how may I help you?"

_Oh hell._

Isabella almost dropped the phone when a thunderous crash followed by a shrieking woman's scream came from the lobby area.

"EDWARD CYLLEN! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!"

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><p><strong>WOW! It's been awhile, huh? I was very ill, but I am doing better and glad to be back! Review and show XP some love (if you can remember any of this story, that is!) I don't blame you. Damn writers, they think they can just update once a year... :)<strong>


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